


12 Days of Papcest

by captain_shitpost



Category: Undertale (Video Game)
Genre: Anxiety, BDSM, Bratting, Cannibalism, CashPuff, Child Death, Death, Drowning, Edgepuff, Fluff, G!Papyrus/US!Papyrus, Impact Play, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, M/M, Misunderstandings, Murder, Not Actually Unrequited Love, Polyamory, Soulmate-Identifying Marks, Surprise Kissing, Unrequited Love, honeypuff, mermaid au, you tuber au
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-09-20
Updated: 2020-08-28
Packaged: 2020-10-24 23:09:37
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 41,792
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20714084
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/captain_shitpost/pseuds/captain_shitpost
Summary: A collection of 12 oneshots of Papcest, featuring various ships, situations, and relationship dynamics.





	1. Day 10: Kneel (SmokedMirrors aka G!Papyrus/US!Papyrus)

**Author's Note:**

> I'm over a year late but I've been in the mood to write some papcest oneshots, so have at it!  
I tried to pick as many different ships as I could, and it's a mix of NSFW, saucy romance, and more platonic relationships. I will try and tag each chapter with the ship, the word it was based on, and relevant tags and CW. If a chapter has an archive warning that applies, I'll be sure to note it.
> 
> It's based on [this 12 Days od Papcest challenge](https://sfw12-days-of-papcest.tumblr.com/post/179954686852/12-days-of-papcest) that I'm too late to participate in, plus I need 3 weeks just for one day lmao. 
> 
> Finally, since I'm not following the challenge properly I also won't follow the original order of days, but write how it strikes my fancy. 
> 
> I hope you enjoy it!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For Fresh, who apparently hella ships this ship. I tried to hit it right in the kinks.
> 
> CW: BDSM, heavy impact play, Honey is both a brat and a tsundere, anxiety disorders, subdrop

“Don’t you look pretty!” Ace said, giving Honey a consolatory pat on the shoulder. Honey snorted, breath hitching when Ace tugged the ropes around his ribs tighter at the same moment. He turned to glare at his boyfriend, knowing by his smug smile that he just looked like he was pouting.

“yeah, yeah, praise me, thank you master, yadda yadda,” he grumbled, turning his head back around, tensing up as Ace leaned into his back with his knee, then forcing his body to relax. The ropes wrapped around his middle, rubbing against his ribs, really didn’t lend themselves to easy breathing. Ace continued tying him up at the back, and Honey focused once again on his breaths. Slow and deep, inside and out, let the magic trying to gather between his legs flare and ebb. He’d be damned if he summoned his magic just from being tied up again.

A final tug, another knot, and Ace stepped away from him, stretching. Or at least Honey figured he was, since his joints faintly popped. He felt a flush of heat travel through him, heating up his face when he realized just what managed to turn him. His boyfriend’s ruined him, damn it. “There we go-nice and tight!” Ace explained, walking in front of Honey and crouching, getting on his eye level. With a grin he grabbed two ropes attaching to his pubic symphysis and tugged up, making Honey choke on a groan. “Having fun? Don’t worry, you’ll have even more when I start whipping you. We’ll see how much of a brat you’ll be then.”

Honey snorted, inserting as much contempt as he could even as his face heated up. He’d be dust before took things laying down. “please, you love it. you’d be bored if i wasn’t talking shit.”

Ace giggled, wrapping both arms under his sacrum, and with a show of very impressive strength and dexterity, picked him up. Damn him, how was he so tall?! “Well, you’re not wrong!” he said cheerfully, before tipping Honey back, letting him land on the bed gently. Honey took another deep breath to cover the one that got knocked out, laying back down completely and testing the bonds. His arms were tied to his torso and pelvis, but his legs were free. Before he could try to wrap them around Ace, or maybe kick him just for the principle of it, the taller skeleton grabbed him by the ropes, then flipped him over onto his chest. Honey hissed, sucking in more air as his knees hit the carpet and his ribs hit the mattress.

“do you _have_ to tug on the ropes so much?” Honey squeezed out, trying his best not to squirm. If he starts, he’ll probably dry hump something. His magic flared in excitement as Ace put a steadying hand on his back, leaning in until his head was near his acustic meatus.

“Nope. But I like to see you squirm,” he said, a note of humor in his voice. He gave him a gentle tap before leaning away, making Honey turn his head around to watch him approach the dresser and start digging through it. Honey knew that he was getting hit with something today, but he let Ace choose which implement. He loved some of them, and he hated some, but today he just wanted to take and take until he couldn’t anymore.

When ace pulled out a familiar riding crop, he felt both a sinking feeling of dread in his soul and vindictive glee, because if anything would make it a challenge to take a whipping, it would be that thing. “ah, shit. the tickler is on tonight?” he asked, not sure if he managed to hide the nervousness in his voice. Ace chuckled, closing the drawer before making his way back over, running the end of the crop down his spine. Honey tensed up, irrationally, before he let out a nervous chuckle. “you’re gonna be an asshole tonight, huh.”

“Only as much of an asshole as you need me to be,” Ace answered cheerfully. “Maybe just a bit more, for funsies. I have to keep you on your toes somehow.”

Honey laughed, arching slightly into the crop. The touch was light, almost ticklish as the crop’s name implied, but he knew how much the thing could burn. He burrowed his face into the clean sheets, the better to hide his summoned tongue. “you gonna stand around talking or you gonna do something? and you call me lazy, heh.”

He yelped when the first hit landed, a second of delay between the lash and the sudden burn, irradiating from the strip that hit his sacrum into the surrounding bone. He took a deep breath, slowly letting it out, letting the pain work its way through him. Ace tapped him gently with his fingers, right over the future bruise, then applied pressure right in the middle. Honey let out a choked giggle, Ace joining him from behind him. It felt so weird, like they were having breakfast together and messing around instead of getting whipped with a crop.

“Since you want to talk so much, count the hits. You’re getting at least fifteen, then we’ll see how you’re holding up,” Ace explained. “You can do that, right?”

“yes, _sir_, I do know how to count-” he sniped back, breath hitching as he got another hit, just above the first one. He forced himself to relax, tensing up would just make it hurt worse. “f-fuck.”

“Start counting, Stretch. You’re a smart man, you know how many hits that was so far. Go on,” Ace explained, tapping his sacrum gently with the crop. Honey winced-even if he didn’t tap the bruised parts this time, his bones were sensitized by the pain. Fifteen lashes, damn it. He’ll need all the focus he can muster to get through it.

“one, t-two,” he spoke out. He breathed out and didn’t inhale until another lash laid into him, this time crossing the two lashes. Honey groaned, the heat and pain multiplying as he inhaled, as slow as he could. “three. you gonna drag this out the whole evening?”

“Oh, darling. You should know better than to ask me to get rougher,” Ace said, low and sultry, making Honey gulp the excess magic in his mouth.

The hits started coming faster then, several at a time, with only a break to sort of catch his breath in between them. Honey gasped, whispered and groaned the numbers, the pain so overwhelming his body was starting to cramp up as it tried to deal with the heat. The sheets underneath his face were wet, sweat, tears or saliva wetting his face. He got a slightly longer pause at 12, groaning when he brushed against the mattress with his groin. The magic there was still unformed, sure, but it was so dense he was pretty sure if he rubbed it he’d be able to work himself into an orgasm. Behind him he heard Ace panting, softer than his own erratic breathing but still familiar. Honey forced himself to breathe slower, match Ace’s breaths. He idly wondered if Ace was turned on right now, flushed and pupils blown, or if he was just calmly looking at Honey squirming, detached and amused, as if he was an interesting experiment. To his shame, he didn’t know which one of those images turned him on more.

“Twelve now. How’re you holding up, darling?” Ace asked, brushing his fingers over his bones. Honey couldn’t help it-he let out a moan when he dug his fingers into a painful spot near the top of his sacrum.

“f-fucking peachy,” he gasped out, turning around to face Ace. He didn’t care his face was covered in his own, glistening magic-having Ace see him messed up like this was still less embarrassing than admitting defeat. “is your arm getting tired?”

Ace crossed his arms and tutted, smile wide on his face. “You’re in a mood tonight, darling. What’s your safeword?”

Honey snorted. “pickles.”

“Do you need to use it?”

Honey grinned. “hell no.”

Ace uncrossed his arms, crop at the ready. “Good. From now on, you don’t have to count the hits, but you’ll have to ask for them every time I stop. Nicely.”

Honey’s shaky grin fell, turning into a very weak glare. Of course he’d make him do something as humiliating as begging. Worse, he knew he wouldn’t back down now. It was embarrassing to beg, yes, but still less humiliating than tapping out. Honey grit his teeth, and managed to squeeze out: “please, sir.”

He was rewarded with another hit whizzing through the air, powerful and this time striping across his ribs, his magic rushing to heat the area as he coughed out a breath. Ace chuckled behind him. “So obedient! I know it’s not easy for you to beg, but you do it so well, darling, I should make you do it more often. I love it when you do these things for me.”

Honey inhaled sharply, a lump in his throat. Ah, shit. He never knew how to handle praise. He craved it as much as he rejected it, it elated him as much as it made his safeword suddenly cross his mind. He breathed through the sting, deep until he could talk without his voice breaking. “please again, sir.”

Ace’s steadying hand was on his spine, avoiding the worst of the bruising. Fingers gently running over his ribs, gentle. A reward for good behavior. Honey couldn’t stop the wave of tears that flooded his sockets, so he buried his face into the sheets to hide them. He hated crying in front of others. At least Ace had never shamed him for it, or acted like it was funny or-or anything short of admirable, somehow. Honey grit his teeth against a sob, relaxing his spine as he heard the crop whip through the air-

A barrage of hits, only a sliver of time before the next landed, hitting his abused sacrum, his back, his upper femurs, and Honey gave up on breathing completely to choke on his sobs, gasping for what little air he could get between the tears running into his mouth and his body clenching against the pain.

It was a strangely peaceful feeling; his body was rocking with the hits, reacting to the burning, but his mind had gone quiet like it never did in his waking hours. He idly remembered when he’d want to claw the racing thoughts out of his skull, because they never slowed down, but this peace was both alien and familiar, all-encompassing, a dream he never thought he would live.

He was startled from his thoughts by a hand on his shoulder, not pushing on any of the raw parts, just steady pressure. He raised his head a little, breath coming in gasps he couldn’t quite stop. Ace was kneeling next to him, gentle smile on his face. “Darling? Honey? Can you hear me?”

It took him a second to figure out how to move his body, then another to realize he was shaking, his bones rattling gently. Huh, weird. He tried to stop the shuddering, but he couldn’t control it. Since when had he been doing that?

The hand on his shoulder started gently rubbing him, creating an clear sensation to focus on. Honey remembered he had been asked a question, and given that his voice wasn’t cooperating he just gave a shaky thumbs up from where his hand was tied to his chest. Ace chuckled. “Good. We’re done, alright? You did great. You deserve a nice rest now.”

Honey nodded limply, wincing as his bruised spine shifted with the movement. He let Ace quickly but methodically untie the ropes, first his arms, letting him position them by his head, shuddering when he brushed against his ribs with every pass of the rope as he worked his way down his ribcage. Finally he untied the last of the rope at his pelvis, and what little strength Honey still had gave out, making his lower body hit the floor fully as he tried to grab onto the covers.

“Oh, just a-” Ace exclaimed, strong arms grabbing him just under his armpits before he slid all the way to the floor. He was hauled onto the bed, face down, as Honey tried to push up with his legs to help but couldn’t quite make the joints lock in place. “There we go! No cracking our skulls open on the floor. I really pushed you hard, huh?”

Honey buried his face into the covers, breathing through his nose, exhaling through his mouth. Was he still crying? No, his breathing had evened out, apart from when he moved too fast. He wasn’t sure what Ace was doing, shuffling behind him, so he relaxed into the mattress. He did it. He managed to get through the whipping.

Did he do alright? Was Ace satisfied? Maybe he should have pushed himself through a few more hits. He managed to hit that sweet spot of peace when he no longer noticed pain, and if Ace wanted to he could wail on his back a lot more than he already did. And it’s not like he couldn’t move right now from the pain. He could still breathe. He could take more.

Should he have taken more? Was Ace disappointed?

He heard water dripping into a plastic tub, gritting his teeth just in time for the wet towel he’d been expecting to plop down on his burning bones, grinding his face into the mattress with a grunt as the towel gently ran over his bones, Ace humming as he got to work wiping him down. The towel traced his ribs, his spine, all the way to his sacrum. Honey flinched at the shot of pleasure-pain when it grazed the magic still concentrated around his pelvis, but he couldn’t muster up any real arousal. Ace kneeled next to his chest, one arm winding underneath his ribcage, tugging him upwards. Honey whined, not quite ready to talk yet.

“Come on, I need to wipe your front too. Just another minute and you can nap. You’ll feel better,” Ace said, voice soothing. When he pulled on his front again, he followed and held himself up on his elbows, arms shaking even with Ace halfway holding him. He had to focus on keeping his spine from moving too much, so much so that even the wipes to his pubic arch couldn’t elicit much of a response. Finally, after what felt like far too long, Ace lowered him down, the towel slapping into plastic a moment later.

Stretch went back to just breathing, letting his mind wander, unable to focus on anything specific, going from idle curiosity about what he’d eat for breakfast tomorrow, to the satisfaction thrumming through his bones, matching the rhythm of his magic, to the momentary spikes of panic as he remembered he could have done better, but the only constant was Ace’s weight dipping the bed next to him and his hand gently stroking him, bone scraping bone.

He must have dozed off at some point, because he snapped awake when Ace sat down next to him again, even though he couldn’t remember him leaving. He turned himself to face him more fully, climbing to his elbows with a grunt, feeling a bit stronger now. More like himself. A blessing and a curse. Ace smiled at him. “Had a nice nap? I brought some water and snacks, if you’re up to it. Gingerbread cookies. You want?”

Honey blinked at the glass in front of him, shifting his weight until he could hold it, draining it immediately. Damn, he was thirsty. Ace chuckled, holding a hand just beneath the glass in case he dropped it. “got any more water?”

Ace dutifully poured another glass, Honey dutifully drank that one too, then lied back down to nibble on the cookie. He wasn’t really hungry, but he knew the healing he’d receive was necessary. If left unhealed, the injuries would hurt even more tomorrow, and he needed to be able to move around. Ace joined him in the snack break, apparently much hungrier than he was as he attacked the cookies, his hand back on him, stroking idle patterns into bone.

Honey liked this part, a lot. Sure, the scene itself was great, but this silence where his body and soul were too tired to work themselves into a frenzy, and Ace was right there next to him, were unlike anything else. For a short while, he wasn’t broken, and the world was fine. He could feel the anxiety licking around the edges of his soul, and he knew it wouldn’t be long until it was back, knew that being able to think this clearly meant soon it would settle in and he’d be fighting it again, but for a short while he got a break from it. This was what Ace gave him. Peace. A break to rest, so he could continue fighting.

And how did he repay him? By insulting him, snapping back and not even taking as much as he knew he could. He briefly thought of sucking him off, but he knew his boyfriend would refuse him, saying he was too tired, that it doesn’t matter. But…how could he repay him? For everything he does?

“Honey? You alright, there?” Ace asked when Honey hid his face in the sheets. He forced his breathing to even out, then nodded. He didn’t want to worry him. He _hated_ worrying him. He was fine.

Ace moved, his weight dipping on both sides of his hips, straddling him from behind. Honey kept his face hidden, his breathing forced even. He’d learned how to cry quietly very early on. His brother was too damn perceptive for his own good, and anything else than hiding it perfectly would be found out. Ace, predictably, ignored his efforts and put his hand on his forearm. “Honey. Turn around.”

Honey hiccupped, the command breaking what little control he had. His breaths started coming in faster and faster, and soon he was gasping as he started crying for real, limply letting Ace turn him onto his back, squinting at the light room and the now milder jolt of pain. “i’m sorry babe, i’m real sorry,” he blubbered, covering his sockets with his hands.

What little dignity he had was abandoned when Ace wrapped his long limbs around him and he started bawling, holding Ace in a vice grip as he struggled to breathe and weep at the same time. Ace kept holding him, shooshing him and muttering gentle reassurances as Honey tried not to shake apart. “i’m so sorry, babe, i keep trying to do b-better and-and i want to be better but i. i can’t. i can’t be better for you,” he choked out, caught between shame and panic and desperate want, where he wanted Ace to hold him like he did every time before but hated that he needed it. He was always so weak. So dishonest. He wished as much as he feared that Ace would finally tell him to get his shit together.

“Honey, you know I don’t want that from you,” Ace murmured into his ear. “I just want this, alright? You in my bed, and in my arms, talking to me. I don’t need more. You already give me so much more than you can imagine.”

Honey shoved his face into the crook of Ace’s neck, a safe little spot where the world didn’t exist and his mind couldn’t get him, where there was only Ace’s love and kindness. Damn it all to hell. His boyfriend was too good for him.

“Just let it out, alright? I’ll be right here with you. Then we can take a nap, and we’ll talk a bit more in the morning. How does that sound?” Ace asked. Honey managed to make an affirmative sobbing sound, then went back to making Ace’s shirt damp.

Ace moved to the side and lay on the bed, shifting so he was holding Honey to his chest. Honey clung to him and only let him go when Ace went to pull a blanket over them, sobbing and slowly calming down into sniffling in his chest. It was warm in here. Safe. Blankets and hugs had protective powers over the bad sides of life.

Honey breathed in deep, satisfied when his breath only hitched a little. He finally managed to look up, meeting Ace’s gaze. His boyfriend was looking down at him patiently, like he always did. “sorry about that. i just-freakout. i think.”

Ace chuckled, running a finger across his cheekbone. “Just a freakout from the scene, or is something bugging you?”

Honey looked to the side, frowning. “a bit from the scene, a bit the usual. i’m…i’m sorry i can’t believe you. when you tell me you’re happy with me.”

“Aw, darling. No need to apologize for that. I know it’s tough for you, and I can always say it again if it makes the message get through your thick skull,” Ace said with a smirk, flicking him on the forehead. Honey winced, glaring weakly at him.

“yeah, yeah. i’m stubborn and have a thick skull, and you’re a jackass. welcome to the shitshow.”

Ace laughed, surprised, arm snaking back around his waist. “You said it, not me. Still, nice to see you get your spikes back up, darling. I like it when you’re honest, but you sulking around and being a brat is pretty cute, too. Makes me wanna tease you. Maybe make you cry.”

Honey’s face flushed, offsetting his glare. “i’m not cute. also, fuck you and your crying boners. you’re lucky i get off on you being a sadistic prick.”

“Sticks and stones, Honey. Talk back all you like, you’re still the one that chooses to kneel for me,” Ace said, but not quite as teasing as Honey expected. More like…he was fond. A little awestruck. Honey took his boyfriend’s hand, bringing it to his mouth for a peck.

“heh. yeah, i choose to. nowhere i’d rather be, babe,” he said, threading their fingers together. Honey grinned as finally, _finally_, Ace was the one to blush.

“Oh, shut up and sleep. Can’t keep up with your tsun’s and your dere’s anymore. We’ll talk in the morning,” he exclaimed, then shoved Honey’s face into his chest to shut him up.

Honey snickered, snuggling deeper into the covers. Well, sleep was calling and he didn’t want to decline the invitation. He had a feeling he wouldn’t have any nightmares tonight. It was too warm for that.


	2. Day 5: Refuge (CashPuff aka SF/UT)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I really, really wanted to write a mermaid au, so I went a bit shape of water on this bih. Also I planned to make it about 4-5k long and it turned out like 10k so that's about how well my plans usually work
> 
> CW: Mermaid au, inability to communicate, drowning, isolation

The storm gods must be _really_ angry at him, Papyrus thought as he hit the water, the impact knocking the breath out of his ribcage. He started swimming as soon as he got his bearings, but in the murky waters he couldn’t even tell which direction the surface was. He didn’t need to breathe right away, no matter how much his body screamed for it, but knowing he might be swimming towards the depths, from which he wouldn’t be able to float back up, filled him with dread all the same.

He swam harder, his panicked clawing getting more and more difficult as he still didn’t reach the surface, pieces of wood floating down around him. Was it more difficult because he was growing tired, or because he was swimming deeper, into the dark unknown? He turned around, but it had been night time when the ship was damaged and he couldn’t see a single thing. If it wasn’t for the sting of salt in his scrapes, he might have believed the world was gone and he was floating in nothingness.

His strokes got weaker and weaker, turning slowly into a vague dog paddle as the lack of ambient magic in his ribcage made him hazy. He didn’t have to breathe all the time, but he needed the magic kick to function. His body convulsed, trying to suck in the non-existent air, and with a final burst of strength he renewed his efforts.

But all that was in front of him was the endless water.

His body gave out, slowly, just as his mind was starting to stutter. He felt the water rock around him, his body moving in the current and unable to stop it, even when something brushed his foot. These were shark waters, Papyrus thought from a haze, before he realized how pitiful a meal he would make for the poor beasts.

Another stroke, this time a tail or fin across his thigh. Papyrus opened his sockets, despite knowing it was too dark to see. But he felt the movement of a body near his in the way the water moved, the beast likely large-

He flinched as his shirt was tugged on violently, the collar digging into his cervical vertebrae and not letting up, his body moving through the water as he was dragged by his shirt. Papyrus thought how odd it was that the shark wasn’t letting go as he finally blacked out.

His sockets blinked open, immediately regretting it as the harsh sunlight made his skull throb. Papyrus tried to get up but couldn’t get up on more than his elbows before his body gave out and his face smacked into the wet sand. He spat out the grainy, salty mush, his sockets stinging at the invasion and his dirty hands unable to clear them. His second attempt was more successful, and he managed to get to his knees before he had to take a break, panting to try and get his body to stay upright. He looked around, trying to see where he was.

He was on a sandy stretch of beach, surrounded on both sided by rocks, one side a gentle slope and the other a high, sharp cliff. He turned to look at the sea, not surprised that he couldn’t see other land. It was probably close to noon, the sun shining bright over his head, so he started stripping off his clothes, crawling on all fours towards the dry sand and spreading his clothes to dry.

There were a few small shrubs and trees on this island, but thin enough that Papyrus could see through them to the other shore. The island was tiny, probably wouldn’t take him longer than a quarter hour to reach the other side. Papyrus sighed. Would be nice if he washed up close to civilization instead of an uninhabited island, as grateful as he was that he’d found some sort of refuge. Slowly, pushing off of the ground and then his knees, he stood up, forced to keep his legs apart and knees locked to stay stable. He looked around. There were palm trees, and he could spy a few coconuts. Some of the shrubs might yield wood for fishing spears, so gathering food was a possibility. Palm leaves and grass he might be able to use to make a small roof over his head. The dry grass might be flammable, but he wasn’t sure how much wood he could gather for a fire, so he might have some cold nights ahead.

Papyrus breathed in, then out. He would have to stay alive until someone came to find him. He knew his brother would throw a fit when he learned he was lost to the sea, and he wouldn’t give up until he had proof he was dust or he was back alive. The problem was, with the sea being as vast as it was, who knew how long that would take?

Papyrus took a shaky step, then another. The coconuts weren’t going to pick themselves.

He’d been on the island for three days now, according to the little gouges he started making in a felled tree trunk. He fashioned a nice wooden spear, sharpened by rocks to a fine point, and made a very awkward roof, but he was still hungry and cold. The sun was setting and the winds picking up, a fresh northern breeze. He scraped the last bits of raw fish flesh off of its bones and ate it, already mourning the small but delicious meal. He hoped he was saved before the monsoon season hit. There was no place to hide on the island and standing in the storm was a good way to get injured.

He grabbed his spear with a vice grip, going to stand in the sandy shallows once more. He briefly felt thankful for his childhood goofing around by catching fish to kill the time, as without it he doubted he’d be able to catch anything now. He stood, still, waiting for a fish to come to him.

His mind wandered as he waited, straying to his brother. He would come for him. He believed that with all his soul. But that didn’t mean this wasn’t rough. He had a feeling that when he got back home he’d sleep for a few days and then eat his own weight in cooked meat. And then he’d give his brother a hug, and Undyne would crack his ribs with a hug and tell him to never get shipwrecked again. He made a promise to himself that he’d come home to them, or else he wouldn’t be Papyrus!

A splash. Papyrus whipped his skull around, watching the water ripple in concentric circles further in the sea, where the sandy shallows dropped suddenly into darker waters. He couldn’t see what had made that splash, but he knew whatever it had been, it had been large. And rather close to the shore.

He went back to his camp as fast as he could and refused to try fishing again for the next several days.

On the seventh day, he woke up to a fish washed ashore. He grabbed it frantically, worried it would swim away, but to his confusion it was dead. And not the decaying, half-eaten sort of dead. Recently killed, but not eaten. It reminded him strangely of the time the stray cat he’d been feeding brought a dead pigeon to his bed.

He looked out to the sea, and for the first time wondered if it really was just luck that got him to this shore.

From that day on, he felt like he was being watched. The island was empty after every single inspection, so it must have been coming from the sea. Papyrus tried not to look at it too hard, scared of what he would see looking back. Instead he focused on making a sturdier roof and tried desperately to make a net from the palm strings and leaves and grass, eventually forced to wade into the shallows to try and catch something. He never dared to stay in the water for long, but he managed to spear a lost octopus and decided to splurge on a fire to cook the tough meat. He was busy trying to chew through the flesh when he saw the water ripple once again, in the same spot as before. This time, he caught what looked like a bit of a very large tail, just barely peeking out of the water.

He watched the water for a while longer. It didn’t move like a shark. He could imagine a dolphin moving like that, but dolphins didn’t come in an intense shade of purple.

His breathing picked up and he wound his arms around his knees. The land didn’t feel so safe anymore. His sleep was interrupted by nightmares of great beasts tearing him apart, pulling him into the deep.

The next morning, he found a fish again, killed for him. He surveyed the water, the surface perfectly still in the absence of the wind.

That evening he grilled the fish, wrapped in palm leaves, and kept one socket out on the sea at every moment. He’d eaten half of the fish before he saw the ripple once more, the purple tail subtly shining. Papyrus got up and ran towards the water, holding the fish, and waded to the part where the bottom dropped. Here, he lowered the grilled fish into the salty water, then waded out as fast as he could. He turned around to watch what would happen every few steps he took.

For a while, all was still and Papyrus was starting to think he may have wasted half a fish as the sun went down. But then, as sudden as a storm, the water rippled, then bubbled, and suddenly a great creature was thrashing in that spot, never fully visible but the few times its tail stuck out of the water, the stunning colour and giant fins awe-inspiring. Soon the water was still and empty once again but for a pair of bright, purple lights, hovering just above the surface, standing out from the dark waters, watching him. His soul stuttering in his chest, Papyrus nodded in gratitude, unsure how to thank the creature for the meals when he wasn’t sure it could understand him.

The lights stayed above the surface, watching him for a while longer, and then they were gone. The next morning there was a squid washed up on the shore, the cuttlebone already removed.

Papyrus felt strong once again, now that he had a daily supply of food. He always woke up to fish, octopi, edible algae or shellfish washed up on shore, and a few times he only pretended to be asleep under his little roof as he listened to the creature make its way across the shallows, laboriously, just to leave his daily meal. Papyrus may have been hungry still, but he always made sure to leave half for the creature.

It only ate its part under the cover of darkness, obscuring its form apart from its giant tail, and would then proceed to watch him. It unnerved him at first, but as time went on and the creature kept bringing him food, helping him survive, he relaxed in its presence. He always waved to the creature when he saw it, or sometimes he whistled a simple tune or sang a sea shanty. The creature seemed interested in the little entertainments, and on one notable occasion even waved back with the tips of its tail, much to Papyrus’ delight. Whatever the creature was, sea god or monster or simply a fish, it possessed intelligence.

He wondered now if the creature had only found him on this island and taken to feeding it like a pet, or if perhaps it had been the one to drag him to safety when he fell from the boat. Something had dragged him, and it hadn’t eaten him, so maybe it had tried to save him. The more time passed, the more this possibility rang true.

This evening, after leaving the food for the creature and watching it feed, he waited for it to fix its eyes on him, waiting for amusement. Instead of a song or dance, Papyrus cleared his unused throat, and shouted: “HELLO! MY NAME IS PAPYRUS! WHAT IS YOURS?”

The creature didn’t seem to react to his question. Papyrus frowned. It could be deaf, or couldn’t understand speech, or maybe just not the language he was speaking. With a frown, he yelled: “THANK YOU FOR FEEDING ME!!! I AM IN YOUR DEBT, STRANGE CREATURE! AND I WILL NOT HURT YOU, I PROMISE!!!”

The creature blinked at him, then disappeared into the waters once more. Papyrus went to sleep that night disappointed, wondering if he could learn to speak to his strange, new friend.

The next morning, he woke up to the usual food, several smaller fish this time, but also to something new: a stone the size of his thumb, semi-transparent and a gorgeous green-blue colour, the roughness sanded away by the sea. It looked like glass, and Papyrus hid it away in his bed to look at in the evenings.

It became a habit. The creature kept bringing him food, every day, but also would bring him non-edible presents now. Sometimes it was a pretty shell or stones or pearls, sometimes it was human jewelry, most of it rusted or damaged by the tides of water and time but still stunning. To his delight, one of the presents was a dagger, the hilt decorated with rubies and the blade sharp after two days of sanding. Many tasks became much easier with it, and Papyrus thanked the creature that night with cooked fish meat and a small doll he’d made by weaving grass together.

He didn’t know if the creature knew what a doll was or even noticed it, but Papyrus hoped it would. He had precious few other gifts to give.

He had been on this island for over two months now. Three, perhaps. That was about enough time for the crew of his ship, if any of them survived the storm, to get back to his town and notify his brother of his absence. There was probably a ship preparing to find him, right now. They can’t have given up on him. They wouldn’t. Right?

He sniffed, wiping his sockets with his sleeve. He had built a shelter here, sure. And food. It wasn’t nearly the worst situation to be in. But he missed his home. His brother didn’t know how to feed the stray cats that visited them daily without causing a fight over food, since the bigger cats always bullied Marina. The annoying dog that kept hanging around his house had probably caused a ruckus without him to chase it away. Undyne probably set fire to something important again, and nobody was around to gently mock her. Sans probably-

He hiccuped, the tears in his sockets finally spilling down his face. He missed home. He didn’t want to die on this island, forgotten. The whole reason he became a sailor was to become rich and famous and loved by all, and yet here he was, alone. For the rest of his days. He couldn’t hold back the sobs anymore, his tears dripping onto the net he’d been trying to make. He put it aside-he didn’t want to ruin his work due to an emotional breakdown-and he stuck his face into his hands, forehead resting on his knees. The rattling of his bones was loud but still overshadowed by his gasps.

He kept crying, sleeves of his shirt soaked through, thinking about home. The wind picked up, waves breaking on the shore and creating a comforting noise, and Papyrus could almost imagine still being in the ship cabins, listening to the sea.

A branch cracked on the beach, not far from him.

He froze, cry hitched mid-sound. The waves were still rolling, but a sound didn’t follow their pattern-a shift of sand, a sinking of weight into the grains. Close to him.

Coming closer.

In front of him now.

He felt something brush his leg and he screamed, throwing himself backwards and scuttling away on his hands, staring wide-eyed in front of him in terror. Familiar purple lights stared back at him, this time with a visible body: a long purple tail, not unlike those of dolphins, and the upper body of a skeleton, rather obviously coiled back in fear.

Papyrus panted, tears still wetting his face, as he stared at the creature in front of him. Their face was contorted in wide-eyed surprise, head hunched, tail coiled in protection, and obviously not happy with the way Papyrus had screamed full-throttle right in their ear. Papyrus tried to control his breathing, his body relaxing by inches.

“ER, SORRY ABOUT THAT. I DIDN’T KNOW YOU COULD COME ONTO LAND LIKE THIS,” Papyrus said, breaking the silence, and the creature flinched at his voice, jingling as it moved. Papyrus noted the creature seemed to have a taste for jewelry, as it had a large array of bangles and necklaces on their person. He smiled, moving towards the creature, stopping when they let out a low, throaty hiss, baring teeth, a very impressive display between their sheer size and scarred physique. Papyrus sat on his knees, leaving the creature space. They seemed to have understood the peace offering, because the hiss trailed off and they kept staring at him, purple lights immobile. Papyrus grinned. His mysterious friend had come to comfort him, maybe, or to see what he was doing. Maybe they were worried for him and came for a visit.

Seems he would have to be a good host, then!

“WELL, HAVE YOU EVER EATEN A COCONUT? I’VE GROWN RATHER FOND OF THEM!” Papyrus asked, the creature coiling tighter once again. Papyrus would have rolled his eyes if he had any. It was pretty obvious who would win in a fight between the two of them-their tail was incredibly muscular and thick, and even their upper body was larger than his. He got up and headed towards his stash, ignoring the hiss at his back, then got to work cracking a coconut open.

He brought it closer, slowly taking a sip from it to demonstrate proper eating technique, then pushed it towards the creature as it once again flinched back. It stared at him for a long while, perfectly still, until it very slowly creeped towards the coconut. Papyrus wondered if they were afraid he would attack them, or if they were just jumpy in general. Maybe they thought he wouldn’t see them if they moved very slowly.

They carefully took the coconut, bringing their head down to take a cautious sip, lights never leaving Papyrus. They paused after the first sip, for the first time their lights leaving him to look at the nut, then taking another, deeper sip. Papyrus watched happily as the creature drank the water, then ate the flesh inside. He expected he’d have to explain that the flesh could be eaten, but seems they figured it out on their own.

He got up and got his own coconut, cracking it open and taking a sip as well. The creature was staring at him, the remains of their meal around them in slivers (and wasn’t that frightful-their hands and jaws could break a coconut shell with relative ease). So Papyrus did what any host would, and pushed his uneaten coconut to the creature with a smile. The creature didn’t try to retreat with their meal this time, and ate it much closer to where Papyrus sat, almost within arm’s reach. It seemed to have almost as much fun eating it as it had with cracking the shell remains into bits afterwards, Papyrus starting to clap at the display of strength but stopping when it seemed to scare the creature again.

They looked at him afterwards, watching him flit around his newly made little home as he completed small, daily tasks, and Papyrus carefully didn’t get too close to them. His guest liked their personal space, and Papyrus wanted them to be comfortable. They only left briefly to return with a collection of shellfish for dinner, and this time they ate dinner together on the shore, a healthy distance between them. Papyrus enjoyed the dusk in their shared quiet, only broken when the creature flopped back to the sea, just as the sun crossed the horizon. Papyrus waved to them, and hesitantly, cautiously, his friend waved back before they disappeared.

His friend didn’t join him on the shore every day, but it happened more often than not. At first they would stay in the deeper waters, watching him more obviously, dipping in and out of their watch to go do whatever sea creatures did, only rarely daring to come closer. Eventually, they started to drag themselves more ashore, the sea still splashing their body but too shallow to swim. Papyrus always greeted them, showed them what he was doing from a distance, sang songs he’d learned as a child. The creature always stayed silent, but Papyrus didn’t miss the way their great body relaxed into the sand, and how their sockets would droop as they went in and out of shallow sleep.

When he wanted the creature to see something, he’d leave it within arms’ reach and then retreat, watch the creature interact with the object, then either retrieve it when they let go or smile when they’d leave to the depths, taking his little gifts to wherever their hidey-hole was. He’d grown used to the jingle of metals, the feeling of being watched, and despite not being able to talk to them he was glad to have company during his daily tasks. He’d ramble on about his day, his brother, his home, how to sail a ship, food he ate, the weather patterns and winds. The creature always paid rapt attention, making clicking noises in protest whenever he stopped talking or singing. After months of not using his voice, it made his mouth hurt to keep talking.

The creature couldn’t speak any language he could understand, but apparently it spoke _something_. The noises they made were a combination of singing notes, clicks and gurgles, obviously meaning something specific, and he noticed they’d make the same sounds in certain situations. Receiving gifts always led to deep gurgles, fire was a click combined with a note, but each fish he ate had a different sound. They also made three singing notes whenever they wanted his attention, and Papyrus wondered if that was just a way they called for others or if they had given him a name. When Papyrus tried to sing this tune, he blushed when the creature started laughing, chest warming at the oddly normal sound from such an unusual being. In return, Papyrus named them Cash-the creature seemed very interested in gold and little treasures, and the idea of calling them Treasure was just too embarrassing. Within a few days, the creature started responding to its new name, just as Papyrus was responding to their three-note call.

Papyrus tried to teach them his own language, delighted every time the creature understood what he was pointing at and repeated the sounds. They seemed to struggle with pronunciation, but still much less than Papyrus struggled to click and gurgle just right, and soon enough he could ask them for rocks or to pass the fish and they understood.

They never quite started coming closer to him on their own, but they started allowing Papyrus to come closer each day, only lightly flinching if Papyrus brushed against them on accident. They let him examine their numerous bracelets and necklaces, seeming rather smug about Papyrus’ interest, proud to show off their collection. It didn’t escape Papyrus’ notice that they changed their jewelry every day, and the idea of the creature humming and hawing over what to wear every morning amused him to no end.

He wasn’t sure how long he’d been on the island anymore. It was months, certainly, but he’d had to break off parts of his calendar tree for fire and lost track of time. Nobody came for him yet.

He ran his fingers across the creature’s spiny back fins, staring at the stars. They were asleep, curled up over his lap, and Papyrus could only tenderly reward them with his touch for the trust they showed him. His fingers caught on the dents and scrapes, especially the deep punctures where a large-toothed creature had tried to rip their arm off, slowly trailing towards their tail, gently running over the solid, vaguely see-through magic making it up. Their body undulated with their slow, deep breaths, solid in a way that felt like they were a part of nature, like a stone or the sea, and not just a lost monster like Papyrus.

He still had hope he’d be found. It hadn’t been that long, as much as it felt like forever. But recently he’d started making plans just in case he was stuck here for a long time. Like making little drying racks for fish, collecting salt to try and preserve food, digging a shallow pool for Cash to lounge in and that kept the water warm enough for Papyrus to sleep in. Tonight, however, it was cold and windy, so Cash had dragged himself fully ashore so Papyrus wouldn’t have to get wet. Papyrus wondered if they felt vulnerable on land, given that they couldn’t move with the speed and grace they had in the sea. They still did it, though, and Papyrus’ soul sang at the gesture.

He ran his fingers over the folded tail fin, watching his friend shift in their sleep, brushing his ribs with their hand before they settled. Papyrus felt his face heat up. Recently, he’d been having…thoughts about his friend. Not wholly unfamiliar ones, he’d been sweet on others before, but still no less upsetting. He wasn’t sure if he was just desperate for companionship after being stuck on this island for so long, or if he genuinely liked Cash.

It’s not like they weren’t easy on the eyes. He’d always had a weakness for the rugged types, as much as he liked to sing praises to the elegant types, and Cash was large, strong, exuding a sense of almost supernatural power, as if they were larger than the body containing them. They laughed at him frequently, and while it should have made him feel bad like the times he was laughed at before, somehow he didn’t mind it so much when he heard the sweet sounds of their joy as opposed to their naturally cautious, hostile disposition. He didn’t mind acting like a fool to make them smile, especially when after laughing they would just come closer to him instead of leaving him behind.

They beamed at every little gift Papyrus gave them, their grin stretching slowly, as if their face couldn’t quite remember how to smile. They kept bringing him all manner of gifts, taking off their bracelets and putting them on Papyrus as soon as he showed interest for a particular one, lounged in his lap and moved slowly under his touch, enjoying it like a lazy, recently fed cat. Normally they seemed fine with Papyrus touching them, but seemed to hesitate in touching him back, claws tucked away and tail moving with great care.

Recently, though, they’d been getting rather _handsy_, for lack of a better term. They had seemed curious about him from the start, but for the past week or so they’d started exploring his body-innocent touches, certainly, clawed fingers turning over his feet to look at the wiggle of his toes, or leaning in to smell his neck in what Papyrus assumed was normal behavior for their type of creature, but coming from a monster Papyrus seemed to be attracted to…he couldn’t help his soul reacting. His face would heat and he’d lock himself in place to stop himself from flinching, and Cash would stare at him with their bright lights, as if waiting for something. For what, Papyrus didn’t know, but he knew it was only a matter of time until he did something that changed things-be it turning to meet their teeth with his own mouth, or make a noise of delight when they managed to find another one of his sensitive spots.

What would happen then? Would they be confused, ignore what happened and nothing would change? Would they feel threatened, leave him alone on this little island? Would they push back, hands exploring with renewed vigor, teeth gently pressing into his bones? It said something that all possibilities scared Papyrus equally.

He didn’t know what to do. His friend was a sea creature, and he didn’t know if they even understood attraction as monsters like him did, or if they were interested in him if they did. All he knew was that he didn’t want to lose them.

Papyrus lay back on the ground, still tracing patterns into the bones beneath him. Cash didn’t even move, just kept breathing, moving like the tides. He closed his sockets and carefully tried to count the days he’d been here, instead of thinking of claws on his hands and tail wrapped around his body.

Papyrus was pacing the shore, wringing his hands. His friend hadn’t come to visit in four days now. The last time he saw them nothing special had happened-they ate together, spent some time stargazing and said goodbye like always before Cash left for the deep. The next morning when he woke there was no food, no trinkets, and most importantly no Cash. Ever since then Papyrus had had his sights locked onto the sea, squinting to see any ripples or flashes of purple.

He was glad he’d made some salted fish, because after a few days he had run out of fresh food and had to dip into his reserves, and he just couldn’t concentrate enough to try and spear new fish. Instead, he did anything that kept his hands busy and eyes free to scan the horizon, wondering where his friend was.

He didn’t know if he’d done something wrong, scared his friend. Maybe they were hurt? Maybe they left for different shores and couldn’t tell him they were leaving. Maybe they’d realized how Papyrus had been looking at them and decided it wasn’t something they wanted to deal with. Maybe…but who knows? All Papyrus wanted was for them to come back, just so he knew they were alright. If they left again, he could handle it, but he just wanted to know if they were safe.

It was noon on the fourth day, his nerves and lack of company making the time pass by slowly, when he saw the first ripples. He dropped what he was holding to run to the water, wading through the shallows as fast as he could, trying not to fall over. His friend didn’t seem to want to approach the shore, making dread fill his chest. It only got worse once he noticed the water seemed purplish and dusty, strangely energized with magic. First he saw a tail, then an arm and Cash’s head, trying to break the water. Papyrus gasped, grabbing his friend by the ribcage and hauled him towards the shore, terrified at how little his friend was moving.

He fell onto the sand, his friend still in his grip, before he pulled them up more onto the sand and bent over them. He whimpered at the creature in his hands. Cash was covered in fine, grainy dust, and with the water no longer washing it away it became obvious how many injuries he had. He was missing two fingers on his right hand, his ribs were covered in gouges, his tail was freely bleeding purple magic from many, many scratches and cuts, with one of their side fins halfway ripped off. None of the injuries were mortal wounds, but between the amount of them and the obvious exhaustion his friend was in danger.

Papyrus truly wished he was any good at healing magic. Alas, all he could do was take his shirt, run down to tatters by now, and rip it to pieces to tie off the worst of the bleeding. Next, he took some of the grass rope he had made and sticks and set the fin with them, as well as a rather cracked rib he noted. Cash stirred and hissed in pain whenever Papyrus touched the injuries but wasn’t awake enough to fight him-a small mercy. Finally, he took a coconut, hands shaking as he opened it, then tipped it for his friend to drink. They choked on the liquid, Papyrus cursing as he hauled them upright and drank the liquid himself, pressing his mouth to theirs. This time a bit went down and they didn’t choke, so Papyrus did it again, small sip by small sip, until he finished it and then took some salted fish, breaking it up into tiny bites and shoving it into their mouth. Cash managed to swallow some in their half-awake sate, thankfully, but Papyrus stopped when his friend passed out for good.

He lay them back down, surveying the damage. The small amount of food wasn’t enough to heal them, but it was enough to stem the loss of magic and dust, for which Papyrus was grateful. Perhaps when they slept off some of the exhaustion they’d be able to eat more. He gathered sand beneath their head to act as a cushion, then gathered food and the roof that needed fixing to occupy himself. He would stay vigil until his friend woke up and ate. He gathered the rope and leaves, fixing the holes that had popped up, wishing he could do the same for his friend.

His friend awoke in the early morning of the next day, his three-note song waking Papyrus from where he’d fallen asleep sitting up. Papyrus scrambled to approach them, checking their injuries. No more bleeding or dust, but nowhere near healed. He needed to get some food in them. His friend clicked in annoyance, making Papyrus wave at him.

“OH, BE QUIET AND GIVE ME A MINUTE. I NEED TO CHECK YOU OVER,” he told them, checking to see if the loose rib and fin were still immobilized. Thankfully, the slings held, so he let out a breath he’d been holding, finally looking at his friend. Cash was staring at him with a grumpy, pained expression, perhaps sulking at Papyrus ignoring them. He chuckled. If they were sulking, they were probably feeling better now.

“ALRIGHT YOU BIG LUG, GET UP SO YOU CAN EAT, ” Papyrus narrated as he hauled them upright. Cash hissed at him but didn’t fight it, holding onto Papyrus’ shoulder with their large hands. Papyrus held them by the elbow as he dragged some salted fish closer, cleaning it and feeding the morsels to the creature. Cash carefully ate, hungry but in too much pain to demolish the meal as they obviously wished to. Papyrus didn’t bother to ration his food-Cash needed the magic, and Papyrus would figure out a way to feed himself later. Right now, if Cash needed all the food he had stored to heal, they’d get all the food he’d stored without question.

Cash really did methodically work his way through the supplies, his lights meeting Papyrus every so often. Papyrus was relieved his friend was fine, but he remembered just how difficult it was to look him in the eyes without his face heating up. Finally, Cash put their hand over one of the last fish Papyrus had, a signal that he was full, and then slumped to the ground in a tired heap. Papyrus put everything away, taking a moment to compose himself, then lay down next to them. Papyrus turned to look at them, not surprised that Cash was staring. “WHAT HAPPENED?”

Cash stared at him for a few seconds, unmoving, then raised their tail weekly, pointing at it. Papyrus had no idea what that meant. Did their tail get stuck somewhere?

Noting his confusion, Cash decided to use their surprising grasp of foreign languages: “Tail. Fight. Food.”

Papyrus squinted in thought. The injuries on his tail didn’t seem like the bites of a shark-there were some bite marks, but much smaller, and a lot of cuts. The bite marks were about the size of his own jaw, most likely, albeit with much meaner teeth, and the cuts seemed distinctly claw-like.

Papyrus sat up in surprise. “TAIL…SOMEONE LIKE YOU? WITH A TAIL? YOU FOUGHT OVER FOOD WITH SOMEONE LIKE YOU?”

Cash blinked at him, then chuckled, wincing as it jostled his ribs. They nodded. Papyrus was surprised, even if he didn’t know why-it made sense that Cash wasn’t the only one of their kind. And if they got this injured in a fight with their own kind, perhaps it wasn’t so surprising they preferred to spend time with him.

He moved closer to them, lying on his side, then carefully putting his arm around their spine, a rare part of their body that wasn’t injured. He laid his head on their shoulder, hoping it wasn’t painful, and tried not to cry. His friend was alright. Hurt, but alive and would heal with time. He couldn’t help the tears that gathered in his sockets, so instead he wiped them with the heel of his hand.

A hand stopped his, moving it away from his face. Cash looked at his face, lights tracing the tears making their way down. Papyrus froze as they moved closer, keeping eye contact, then made a choking sound when they slowly licked the tracks of magic on his face, tracing them from his chin to just over his mouth. Papyrus kept staring, flabbergasted, as his friend leaned back, licking their teeth.

“…THAT WAS ABSOLUTELY DISGUSTING,” Papyrus said, abashed, as his soul pulsed hot magic through his body. “WHY DID YOU DO THAT???”

Cash chuckled, then lay back down properly and closed his sockets again, breathing evening out. They didn’t let go of his hand, so Papyrus threaded their fingers together and synchronized their breaths. The foreign magic on his face was sticky and wholly uncomfortable in several ways, but at least their hand was gentle.

Cash was a rather annoying patient, overall. Papyrus’ day was constantly interrupted by clicks of annoyance or his own three-note name, and he was torn between relief that he could hear those sounds again and annoyance at the sheer frequency they appeared at. Papyrus had to count his breaths more than once to avoid blowing up, but he always tried to acknowledge his friend by coming over and checking their injuries, bringing them food or some of his gathered treasure to amuse themselves with. Above all, though, they seemed to want his company, often grabbing his legs or arms and holding him if they decided he didn’t spend enough time with them, and Papyrus couldn’t say no to such blatant displays of clinginess. Not when their haughty, annoyed expression seemed so forced, and the fear in their eyes so present.

So, he spent a lot of time sitting next to Cash, petting them or checking their injuries or playing with their uninjured fins, his soul doing backflips in his ribcage. Cash couldn’t move very fast, so sometimes Papyrus escaped their clutches, but pretty often they’d grab him and pull him down to the sand, into their arms, and Papyrus would be forced to lie next to them while they napped, blushing furiously, instead of trying to find food. And food was scarce, between Cash eating to heal themselves and being unable to hunt.

He managed to hunt down fish occasionally, and nearly all of it went to Cash. He’d been feeling a little light-headed from the hunger, but he knew he could survive. Cash’s fin was still torn up, and his wounds had only recently closed enough to not open whenever he moved suddenly. So Papyrus chewed on blades of grass to distract himself and gathered as much food as he could between their cuddle sessions, and politely declined food whenever Cash tried to give him some.

Well, right up until one mealtime where Cash looked at him after his refusal, a stubborn glare in his eyes, and suddenly pushed Papyrus down. He sputtered, feeling his magic rush to his face as the large creature wrapped their tail around his body, their weight immobilizing him. “YOU-WHAT ARE YOU DOING?!” Papyrus screeched, battling with pushing them off. He didn’t want to hurt them, but he also couldn’t handle their imposing mass in such close contact with his pelvis.

Cash ignored his complaints, taking a handful of the fish he was supposed to eat and shoving it in Papyrus’ mouth. Papyrus made muffled noises of complaint but chewed and ate the food obediently. He wasn’t about to waste food by spitting it out just because his friend was being _utterly ridiculous_.

Cash nodded in approval, ignoring Papyrus’ annoyed glare. Instead they grabbed more fish, this time putting it in front of Papyrus’ mouth, resting on his teeth. Papyrus didn’t move for a long while, trying to convey his disapproval with his look, but in the end he opened his mouth and ate the morsel anyways.

Cash kept feeding him, bite after bite, Papyrus continuously expecting them to get off of him and let him eat on his own. His friend didn’t let up, though, and Papyrus had to admit that their gruff way of taking care of him was…touching, in a way he was wholly unused to. Even their touch felt less provocative and more protective, as if they weren’t gravely injured and were just as able to protect him as they used to be.

Papyrus looked at their fin, noting it twitched with their movements, and how their wounds stayed closed after their movements, even the deeper ones. And they seemed strong enough to keep themselves upright, not the least bit out of breath from holding Papyrus down, so perhaps they were more healed up than he thought. He let Cash feed him the entire fish, as annoyed that Cash didn’t eat it themselves as he was relieved he got a decent meal, and then prayed to all that was holy that Cash would finally move off of him. Instead, Cash lay down on top of him, their weight shifting to the side but their body still covering him and then lay their head down on his sternum, breathing slowing down. Papyrus cursed the gods and their sense of humor and hoped the erratic way his magic pulsed wasn’t too noticeable as he tried to sleep.

The next day, he woke up to his friend missing, fear gripping him once more. He couldn’t bring himself to concentrate on anything but the sea until Cash returned, slowly and laboriously, carrying clams and edible seaweed. They ate together, Cash once again feeding him instead of letting Papyrus eat like an actual adult, and then they went back to their routine, Papyrus keeping busy, Cash watching him, and occasionally they sat together and watched the sky, their bodies always touching somewhere.

Cash’s healing was easiest to track from the quality of their gifts-it started with seaweed and little else, but slowly they started bringing in crabs or eels, and soon enough they were hunting and bringing back fish, as well as the little trinkets Papyrus had grown attached to. Papyrus always smiled and thanked them, and they said “thank you” right back even if Papyrus wasn’t sure they understood what that meant, and in return Papyrus kept fussing over them and making food. It was back to their strange routine, comforting in its odd normality.

Except things had changed, now. In various, subtle ways, but Papyrus felt their relationship was different. Cash was clingier with him now and seemed to take a great interest in feeding Papyrus, as if he’d starve without him. And their usual touches had shifted from feeling like normal, platonic touches that only flustered Papyrus to something a lot more…overt. And the way Cash looked at him now-it didn’t exactly change, he’d always looked at Papyrus like they were waiting for something, but now after staring they’d come closer and touch him, as if that’s what they’d been waiting _for_.

Papyrus wondered if that had been what they’d been waiting for all along, and it filled him with perhaps an ill-conceived feeling of excitement. It didn’t feel threatening or demanding, it felt accepting. It made Papyrus want to reciprocate, escalate. It made Papyrus battle the urge to fling his friend onto the sand every mealtime and kiss them, it made him hold back every time Cash started to touch him, it was his magic sparking every time their eyes were on him.

Papyrus could be patient, though. He wasn’t sure how to have a relationship with someone he couldn’t even understand-they were both learning some basic words of each other’s languages, and they got along quite well even without words-but he knew it would be hard to navigate without understanding what the other was saying. He decided he would take it slow, baby steps all the way. It would be easier to stop the other if they took their time.

He met Cash’s gaze when he looked away from the sunset, a similar kind of determination on his face as Papyrus imagined was on his. So be it, then. They had all the time in the world.

He wondered how long he’d been on their little island. Months, certainly. Cash had brought so many trinkets over the time that Papyrus now had small piles of treasures, well-loved and cherished. He’d recently made a pool to grow clams in, and his little roof had grown enough to start resembling a small shack. Some nights Cash flopped onto his sleeping spot under the leaves and would then hiss at him until Papyrus relented and went to sleep in his arms. He wasn’t complaining, exactly, but what a rude way to go about it!

Papyrus cherished their touch and had started exploring them back in less innocent ways recently. They hadn’t gone far, they’d never even kissed-and Papyrus was unsure if Cash even knew what kissing was-but Papyrus was content. He was happy to watch the sky with them, look at the horizon as the wind blew the salt spray into their faces. The vast, endless sea, and just the two of them, alone.

Right up until, one day, the horizon wasn’t empty.

Papyrus took a good 5 minutes to understand what was going on, no longer familiar with the endless blues being disturbed. Then, his sockets widened as he realized what it was. A ship. A distant, rather large ship headed somewhere diagonal to them.

“OH GODS,” Papyrus muttered, then got up, knocking Cash off of him and to the ground, his friend letting out an annoyed gurgle. “OH WOW!!! THAT’S A SHIP! A SHIP, CASH!!! OH, I HAVE TO SIGNAL THEM!!!” he screamed, running to grab several fresh leaves, putting them over his collection of dried grass and twigs. His hands shook as he lit the fire, taking much longer than he usually would, and he carefully fanned the flame, praying that the green leaves would smoke well.

Cash was now carefully watching the distant ship, needing several shouts from Papyrus to start handing him twigs or taking his place fanning. Papyrus whooped in glee when the smoke started up, sockets watering as he got up every few seconds to look at the ship, waiting for it to turn towards his little island.

“CASH, I CAN GO HOME NOW! FINALLY, I CAN GET OFF THIS ISLAND!!! I CAN SEE MY BROTHER, AND MY FRIEND UNDYNE, AND ALL THE CATS-” he said, choking on a sob. He rubbed the tears off his face, trying to keep his eyes on the ship. “IT’S BEEN SO LONG, I-I WAS MAYBE, PERHAPS, GIVING UP ON GOING HOME EVER!!!”

Cash trilled in response, staring at the ship with Papyrus. Papyrus was bouncing in place, waiting for the boat to turn at him, start following the smoke. Maybe they’d have food. Maybe they’d have new clothes, too! Papyrus had ruined his shirt and socks ages ago, and he rather missed wearing proper clothes. Perhaps he could pay them with some of the treasures Cash gave him? But they were gifts for him, and he likely shouldn’t be giving them away.

Papyrus frowned at the sky, studiously ignoring Cash’s side-eyed glances every now and again. The ship sure was taking a while to turn here, wasn’t it? Maybe the wind was off? Maybe they didn’t see the smoke… Papyrus tossed some more leaves, fanning the flames as a wholly different kind of tears threatened to fall. But the ship stayed on its course, even after many more leaves, slowly moving away from where they would be able to notice his little island or run nearer to its shores.

Papyrus stared at the great ship sail away, taking his joy with it. He fell to his knees, distantly aware that his sockets were pouring magic, but he couldn’t focus on anything but the idle fantasy that the winds would shift and carry the ship to his shores. He saw Cash flop towards the water and swim away with a splash, and all he could do was hold an old necklace they’d given him to wear and begin sobbing. He rarely thought the gods were cruel, since his hardships led to a life he enjoyed and loved, but mockery such as this cut to a place he didn’t know could be hurt, a soul deep ache. His brother will be so sad.

He watched the horizon, wondering where his friend had gone. By the time the ship was obscured by the nearby rocks, he was still staring straight ahead, wondering if he’d ever get another chance to leave. He could believe in another chance, of course. But he didn’t like getting his hopes up for it. Maybe his life with only Cash would be sweet. He was fond of them, terrifyingly so, and would never willingly say goodbye to them, but he never really thought he’d spend his whole life here.

The sun had moved quite a bit by the time he heard a distant noise, almost like the creak of a wooden door. He turned to listen to the sound, coming vaguely from the side, beyond the rocks. The creaks didn’t stop, and in fact grew incrementally louder. Papyrus wiped his sockets, a faint hope blossoming. The sound reminded him of his nights on the boat, and he could almost, very faintly, hear a murmur of distant voices carried on the wind.

He scrambled up the rocks, mouth stretching into a face-hurting grin as he saw the ship, closer than before, and now pointed towards him. He yelled in joy, waving at the distant ship, then ran towards his belongings. He put on some of his favourite bracelets and necklaces that Cash gave him, stuck the ruby blade in his belt, and then tied the remains of his shirt in a head scarf, sticking his favourite stone in it securely before he waded into the waters, kicking off the edge of the shallows and swimming into the sea proper, panting in exertion as he tried to swim as fast as he could towards his salvation.

He could hear the hollers of sailors grow louder, the tug of ropes and flaps of sails, and he yelled and waved his arms around, trying to get their attention. He kept swimming, going as close to the ship as he dared to without risk of getting hit, and by the time he started having trouble catching his breath he was close enough for the crew to wave back at him, throwing out a ladder to the side to grab onto. Papyrus took a few tries to get on, between the ship still moving and his arms not obeying, but finally he latched on and, with shaking limbs, climbed aboard the ship.

He gasped as he collapsed onto the deck, panting as he rolled onto his back and wept, then laughed, then both at the same time. The sailors-a mix of monsters and humans-seemed worried about him, and a few were kind enough to wrap him in a coat and pat his back as he caught his breath and even brought him a warm meal to eat. Beans and sour cabbage, and Papyrus devoured the plate, savouring the food he would have frowned at just a few months back. The captain sent the others away, barking orders on what to do and how they would continue sailing again now that the wind changed, and only a single crewmember stayed with him. Papyrus put down his bowl, looking at the sea, searching for the purple colour. Suddenly, he realized a crucial question he never thought through: he never did manage to ask his friend what would happen if he found a ship.

“EXCUSE ME, SIR?” Papyrus asked the crewmember, meeting his eyes. The man was a human at first glance, but Papyrus spied faint gills on his neck, closed at the moment, and his eyes were a somewhat unusual shade of gold. A mix, most likely. “HOW DID YOU FIND ME? I THOUGHT YOU DIDN’T SEE MY SMOKE.”

The human chuckled. “Please don’t call me sir, makes me feel old. We weren’t sure if what we saw was smoke, and the cap’n wasn’t about to risk being late on our shipment to go off and explore. But then a very angry merman climbed his way onto our deck, and he knows better than to piss of a merman. You know they protect sailors from storms when they like them?”

Papyrus tensed up. “MERMAN? DO YOU MEAN CASH? PURPLE TAIL, SKELETON TOP?”

“Boy, where do you come from that you don’t know stories of mermaids!? Sea monsters, live and die in the deep. Tend to keep to themselves, but they come to the surface sometimes, to kill us landfolk or to love us. My grandma was one and taught me their tongue, so I translated for your husband and the cap’n.”

Papyrus blushed. “THEY’RE NOT MY HUSBAND!!! THEY-I DIDN’T EVEN KNOW THEY WERE A MAN FOR SURE!”

The crewman shrugged. “He spoke like a man and dresses like a merman with all those jewels, so I figured he was. And he’s the one that called you his spouse. Told us if we didn’t save you he’d sink the ship with storms.”

Papyrus could feel his face heating up. Spouse. Ridiculous! They never married!! They barely even did anything, romantically speaking!!! The human laughed at his face, patting him on the shoulder. “Ah, let me guess. He brought you gifts he took for himself, right? That’s how they court each other. They marry by giving the other person a jewel off their own body and receive a jewel back.”

Papyrus buried his face in his hands and groaned. “FANTASTIC. I’M WED AND I DIDN’T EVEN KNOW IT. NOT LIKE I COULD FIX IT SINCE WE CAN’T SPEAK TO EACH OTHER, BUT HONESTLY!!!” he groaned, but stopped for a moment, looking at the crewman. “WAIT A SECOND… YOU CAN SPEAK HIS LANGUAGE! YOU COULD TRANSLATE FOR ME!!!”

The crewman scratched the back of his head. “If the captain allows it, aye. And he wants the blessing of a merman for his travels, so he’s likely to let me laze about instead of haul for him. What do you need translatin’?”

Papyrus got up, leaning on the wooden railing. He scanned the sea, looking for a splash of deep colour-and spotted it, surprisingly well-hidden in the depths. He smiled. Seems his-his _husband_ wasn’t leaving him alone just yet. “CASH!!! COME UP HERE, WOULD YOU?”

He took a step back as his friend shot out of the water, grabbed the ladder, then climbed up using only his very strong arms, stretching across the deck as if he hadn’t a care in the world. Cash smiled, lights fixed on Papyrus, then made that three-tone sound.

“You know that tune means spouse, right?” the crewman asked, Papyrus blushing hard as he knelt in front of his…his Cash.

“THANK YOU, CASH. FOR SAVING ME, TWICE NOW,” he said, looking at the crewman and motioning for him to translate. He did with a roll of his eyes, the hisses and clicks and song jarring coming from the rather human-like man. “I WILL GO HOME NOW. MAYBE WITH THIS SHIP, OR I’LL FIND A DIFFERENT ONE, BUT I HAVE TO GO HOME. I NEED TO KNOW…WHAT DO YOU WANT TO DO? DO YOU WANT TO STAY HERE? OR DO YOU WANT TO COME WITH ME?”

Cash listened intently to his words translated, fins twitching at parts of it. He looked to the side, at the deep sea, then looked back at Papyrus. For a moment, he seemed thoughtful, melancholy, but soon he met his gaze and gurgled an answer.

“He says there is nothing here for him, and his home is with you. Where you go, he’ll follow if you’ll have him. Damn, that’s quite the sentiment, boy,” the man said, but Papyrus ignored his commentary, flinging himself into the merman’s arms, knocking him down to the deck. With his sockets stinging once again, he kissed him, chuckling into the movement at Cash’s incredulous, wide-eyed look, before the merman’s arms wrapped around him, pulling him on top of his body. Papyrus held the kiss for a long while, only breaking it when he ran out of air and the crew started whooping at their display. Leaning back, Cash’s face was flushed a bright purple, but he had a smug grin on his mouth and a hungry look in his eyes.

“I LOVE YOU, YOU RIDICULOUS MAN. DON’T FOR A SECOND THINK I DON’T WANT YOU NEXT TO ME,” he exclaimed, not letting the crewman translate before he went in for another kiss, this time with Cash moving back.

Today, the gods smiled upon him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I die laughing every time I read the place where Papyrus describes Cash as having a "SKELETON TOP". Honey you're not wrong. He may be a bit of an unexpected switch though.  
Also I def got the idea of Mermaid Cash from Lady_Kit's Atypical fic.


	3. Day 7: Tea (HoneyPuff aka US&UT)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Absolutely no CW for this one, just fluff.

A monster's scent was a curious thing. Monsters were made of dust and magic, given form by their souls, and due to that they didn’t have a natural scent like creatures made from organic material did. However, that didn’t mean monsters didn’t smell of anything. Their magic vibrated at certain frequencies and radiated into the ambience and breathing it in would make your brain process it the only way it knew how-by ascribing a scent to the magic, substituting the frequencies with a sensation. However, the magic of the monster had to pass through one’s own magic to be registered, and the interplay of the two magic sources effectively meant that the same monster smelled different to different people, even if their scent registered similarly to different people as a general rule.

Papyrus always found this fascinating, ever since he was a child. Undyne smelled like fish and sweat to him, but to Alphys she smelled of seawater. Sans always smelled to him like freshly baked bread, but after talking to Edge he learned that to him, Sans smelled like dark beer. Alphys smelled of instant noodles, probably an actual scent as a consequence of spilling them on herself innumerable times, but she also smelled faintly like ozone. Edge smelled of rust and old leather, which seemed to be a common sensation to most-apart from his brother, who said he smelled like cherries-and Red smelled like burning wood. Blue smelled of a cheap but decent aftershave, and it was only after asking Sans that he learned he didn’t actually use aftershave, his magic just smelled to him like that. All scents that seemed oddly fitting to their natures, at least to Papyrus’ internal logic. Except Stretch.

Stretch smelled like tea.

Papyrus rather liked tea. His first encounter with it was sea tea brewed by Undyne, which he could take or leave, but one birthday Asgore gifted him a collection of teas of various kinds, flavourings and infusions, and Papyrus was dumbstruck the first time he brewed a cup. He tried every single type in the collection-from various herbal teas, to fruity ones, to green, black or white tea, with flavours or without, with milk and honey and sugar or nothing at all-and soon enough he was drinking tea on the regular, brewing a cup whenever he was wound up over something and wanted to relax.

A good, hot cup made just right was as soothing as being snuggled in a warm bed, covered in blankets. Especially given that Papyrus hated being in bed and felt it was a horrible waste of time. Sans started teasing him for his ‘tea parties’ when he realized he was brewing a cup several times a day, but he eventually relented and started joining him when Papyrus started making snacks. He never touched the tea, despite Papyrus’ nudging, but he liked the cakes and sandwiches at least.

Point was, Papyrus loved tea, inordinately so. But when he asked Stretch if he drank it, hoping for a fellow enthusiast, the heathen laughed in his face and said he had only drank water, juice and energy drinks his whole life.

Papyrus was stumped. If Stretch didn’t smell of tea due to drinking it, his magic must smell like it. And it was rather strange, thinking that the messy, hunched over skeleton with cigarette-stained fingers and sleepy eyes would smell like a good brew. He’d expect the man to smell of cheap candy, or maybe of tobacco, but tea???

He decided to ask his friends what Stretch smelled like to them, unsure if he hoped that he smelled like tea to everyone, making it an oddity of his character, or if he hoped he just smelled like that to him, making it a quirk of their magic interacting. The answers, after the initial confusion and teasing, were varied.

“THE ASHTRAY? HE ALWAYS SMELLS LIKE MENTHOL CIGARETTES TO ME. TOOK ME AGES TO FIGURE OUT HE WASN’T JUST SMOKING THEM,” Edge announced during their morning jog.

“That guy??? Old soda,” Undyne answered while stirring the boiling spaghetti with vigor. “Probably cuz he’s such a bum!!!”

“my brother? he, well. he smells to me like laundry that needs to be done,” Blue said, tapping his chin. “kind of a weird scent when you think about it, but laundry is actually my favourite chore, so maybe that’s why!”

“eh, him? you know those honey hard candies that old people like? he smells like those to me,” said Sans during dinner. “why’re you asking?”

Papyrus frowned. “HE SMELLS LIKE TEA TO ME! AND I JUST DON’T GET IT! MOST PEOPLE SAY HE SMELLS LIKE THE MORNING AFTER A PARTY, AND HE SMELLS TO ME LIKE A PROPERLY BREWED CUP OF DARJEELING WITH MILK!!! YOU’RE THE FIRST ONE TO EVEN DESCRIBE HIS SMELL LIKE SOMETHING PLEASANT!” Papyrus said, gesticulating wildly. It was only his very swift reflexes that caught the fork he’d knocked over the table. “I JUST DON’T GET IT!”

Sans snickered, adding ketchup to his grilled mushrooms. “well, there’s gotta be a reason for it. you know monster scents have meanings. why are you so interested in his scent anyways?”

“I JUST REMEMBERED I DIDN’T BUY BREAD TODAY!!!” Papyrus exclaimed, then summersaulted out the window. An awkward conversation subtly averted, once again!

He knew Sans had a point, though. Several points, in fact-first, that Stretch smelled that way to him for a reason. Someone’s magic tended to translate as the smell of something they associated to them, either because they wore it or used it or were near it often-like Edge and his leather or Asgore and his freshly dug earth-or because something about the monster reminded you of a smell that evoked the same feelings they did-like how Toriel always smelled to him like the waffles Sans used to make for his birthdays when he was a kid.

The second point was that it was weird he was so obsessed with this. He’d always loved talking about how magic smelled and found it fascinating how your perception of someone and your magic interacting would change it, but he also knew that he’d never been so bamboozled by someone’s scent before. And so he decided, with all the determination he could muster, that he would put an end to his strange obsession.

The next weekend, he invited Stretch over for Disney cartoons and lasagna.

“No idea how you did it, man, but your lasagna is even more shit than edge’s. And that’s saying something,” Stretch said, putting another forkful in his mouth. Papyrus raised the plate he was holding to eye level, squinting at the layers of meat, glitter sauce and cheese.

“I HONESTLY DON’T GET HOW! I FOLLOWED HIS INSTRUCTIONS TO THE LETTER, BUT SOMEHOW MINE ENDED UP DIFFERENT,” Papyrus said, tilting his skull in confusion. “WHY IS COOKING SO STRANGE AND LAWLESS???”

Stretch shrugged, sipping on the horrid orange soda Papyrus had bought him. “Did you try adding honey to it?”

“HOW WOULD HONEY POSSIBLY FIX THIS???” Papyrus gaped, throwing his hands in the air. The lasagna went airborne for a short moment, but landed back safely on his plate with a wet smack. Stretch shrugged.

“I guess it can’t get any worse, right? So you might as well add some sugar to it.”

“HOW DO YOU EVEN HAVE ALL YOUR TEETH IF THIS IS HOW YOU EAT???” Papyrus asked, genuinely confused. Stretch made a non-committal sound, then went back to eating. Papyrus eyed the orange soda sitting so close to him. His teeth would be really sticky if he drank it and he absolutely hated the sensation, as well as the sheer unhealthiness of it, but…the taste of sugar and artificial flavorings was oddly addictive. He’d only had half a glass before to try it and now had a pretty much constant craving for the drink, even if he knew he was morally against it.

Stretch put the plate on the table then leaned back on the couch, snuggling into the blankets Papyrus provided. “So what’ve you been up to, big guy? You said you’d go to the sports store last time, right?”

“OH, RIGHT! I’M ACTUALLY PLANNING TO GO TO THE BEACH WITH UNDYNE AND DIDN’T HAVE A NICE SWIMSUIT TO SHOW OFF MY SEXY BODY!!!” Papyrus exclaimed, launching into his extensive plans about their trip, the movie he’d only been half-watching now ignored completely as Stretch did his best to be a good audience.

He trailed off his tirade eventually, blinking in surprise at the room. It had gotten dark out without him noticing, and the movie had long since stopped playing. A glance at the clock revealed that he’d been talking for over an hour. “AH! YOU SLIPPERY SNAIL! YOUR RAPT ATTENTION MADE ME KEEP MONOLOGUING!!! A DEVILISH IDEA, TO PREVENT ME FROM ASKING QUESTIONS!”

Stretch, who for the entire hour had only hummed, encouraged him to keep talking and asked questions for clarification, raised his browbones. “Wait, questions? What’re you talking about?”

“NYEH-HEH-HEH! I ACTUALLY WANTED TO TALK TO YOU ABOUT SOMETHING! NOTHING BAD, JUST A POINT OF CURIOSITY!” Papyrus said, getting up and stretching. “I’M GOING TO MAKE SOME TEA, WOULD YOU LIKE TO TRY IT? IT’S VERY GOOD! WE CAN HAVE IT ON THE BACK PORCH!”

Stretch chuckled, nodding. “Yeah, fine. You like it so much you got me curious. I’ll be waiting outside,” he said, getting up slowly.

Papyrus went to make the tea, muscle memory taking over. Making tea was a meditative task, allowing his jittery, fast-paced mind to calm down. And it always comforted him, even when things got tough. Just there in the background until he calmed down and was back to being himself again.

He hummed as the smell of it filled the kitchen. He loaded the tray with the small, ornate teapot, the mismatched teacups and saucers and utensils, then put milk, sugar and honey on the tray. He brought the entire thing out carefully, with his very strong arms, and went straight to the stairs. Stretch had once again ignored the perfectly pleasant porch chairs and took two pillows to the stairs, looking out into the distance with a cigarette in his hand. Papyrus put the tray between their pillows and sat down, getting to work preparing their drinks. For his own, his usual splash of milk and no sugar. For Stretch, he added more milk and some honey, hoping it would make it more drinkable to someone who’d never tried black tea.

He set the cups in their places, taking his own to try a sip as he stared at the ends of a sunset, the edges of the sky coloured lilac. The first taste of his drink was just right-warm, gentle, but with a solid body of flavor. Papyrus let out a satisfied sigh, joining Stretch’s quiet contemplation.

“You ever think about planting a magnolia?” Stretch asked, taking another long drag of his cigarette. Papyrus hummed.

“THEY LOOK BEAUTIFUL, SURE, BUT YOU HAVE TO RAKE THE PETALS EVERY SPRING AND LEAVES IN FALL. AND OF COURSE I’D BE THE ONE RAKING THEM, NO WAY WOULD SANS RISK DOING AN ACTUAL CHORE IN HIS LIFE,” Papyrus huffed, his cup clicking quietly on the saucer. He could see it, though. A large tree right in his backyard, and all year he’d wait eagerly for the flowers to appear. The raking would probably be worth it. He could just glance out of his window and know he was on the surface as soon as he saw its branches.

Stretch put out his cigarette in the ashtray he’d taken with him, a small turtle shaped one he’d bought himself, and then picked up the teacup. Papyrus watched him as he took a small sip, leaning on his elbows.

“SO? HOW DO YOU LIKE IT?” Papyrus asked, excited. Maybe, finally, he’d find a fellow tea fan. Maybe today was the day!

Stretch hummed in thought. “It’s kind of shit, really.”

Papyrus let out a put-upon sigh. He should have known. “OH, DAMN IT. ANOTHER LOST CAUSE.”

Stretch snickered, sniffing the cup carefully. “Alright, I admit it smells nice, but it’s bitter! I don’t know how you drink the stuff. At least it’s not as bad as black coffee. Edge is a heathen,” he said, then put down the cup. “So what did you want to ask me, anyways? That was not bad and just a point of curiosity?”

Papyrus snorted. He never understood how Stretch managed to listen to him so carefully he could use his exact wording. “IT REALLY IS JUST A DUMB QUESTION. BUT…” he started, thinking on how to approach. He hadn’t made a plan on how to ask, despite spending a decent amount of time trying to figure it out, so he decided to be subtle. “I WAS CURIOUS-HOW DO THE OTHERS SMELL LIKE TO YOU?”

Stretch blinked, slowly. Papyrus tried not to think about how awkward that question was, and instead focused on watching Stretch pull out another cigarette. Stretch, as he always did, didn’t question Papyrus or tease him. He just lit up another smoke, lay down onto the porch, and asked: “Which others?”

Papyrus fiddled with the teaspoon. “ER. ANYONE. YOUR BROTHER? EDGE? MY BROTHER?”

“And you?” Stretch asked with a smirk. He let out a plume of smoke and melted a bit more into the wood. “My bro smells like lemondrops to me, to start.”

“YOU KNOW HE SMELLS LIKE AFTERSHAVE TO ME, RIGHT?”

“He-oh wow,” Stretch said, giggling. “Shit, I didn’t. That’s wild. I should tell him that.”

“PLEASE DON’T, I DON’T WANT HIM TO GET A COMPLEX,” Papyrus answered, sweating. Stretch just laughed harder.

“If you think you can give my brother a complex, you don’t know my brother,” Stretch said with a grin. “Who next. Edge smells like dogs. He threw a fit when I told him.”

Papyrus snorted loudly before he covered his mouth with his hand. “OH NOOOO, DID HE TRY AND STAB YOU AGAIN?”

“Nah, we were in public so he just huffed a lot. I don’t have a death wish to tell him that in stab-free areas,” Stretch said, shrugging. “Your brother smells like toast to me.”

“OH, ACTUALLY THAT’S CLOSE TO WHAT HE SMELLS LIKE TO ME TOO! SO WE DO HAVE SOME OVERLAP AT LEAST,” Papyrus exclaimed, picking his cup back up for another sip. Better to finish it before it gets cold.

“Yeah. Well, he’s a pretty hearty guy, so maybe that’s why,” Stretch explained. Papyrus nodded. As good an explanation as any, even if he had other reasons as well.

“SO WHAT DO I SMELL LIKE?”

Stretch frowned and looked to the side, away from Papyrus. As the seconds ticked by, Papyrus wondered if his porch was so interesting that Stretch forgot the question or if he’d somehow overstepped. Finally, just as Papyrus was about to apologize, Stretch answered. “You smell like caramel milk.”

Papyrus’ voice died out, and instead he tilted his head in thought. “MOST PEOPLE TELL ME I SMELL LIKE DESSERTS. I WONDER WHY?”

Stretch tapped his cigarette off, still not looking at Papyrus. “Maybe it’s cuz you’re such a sweet guy? Nyeh-heh-heh,” he said, smoke coming out in puffs as he laughed. Papyrus groaned. Stretch usually kept away from the half-baked puns, but it seems today he was feeling up to inflicting them on his poor, unsuspecting host.

“AND WHAT IS CARAMEL MILK ANYWAYS? I’VE NEVER HEARD OF IT.”

Stretch looked up at the sky, putting one hand under his skull. “Well, it’s a drink my brother used to make. Haven’t thought about it in ages until I met you.”

Papyrus tapped his cup. “IS IT TASTY?”

“See, what you do is, you take sugar and heat it up,” Stretch said, almost like he didn’t notice Papyrus speak. Papyrus wondered why he looked so melancholy all of a sudden. “Eventually it caramelizes. Then you add milk to it, and a bit of honey for flavor. Bro used to make it for me when I was sick or had a bad day, and it always made me feel better. Don’t know how, but as soon as I had a cup of it whatever bugged me suddenly stopped seeming like a big deal, and I’d feel lighter.”

Papyrus chuckled fondly. “THAT SOUNDS WONDERFUL, STRETCH. I WONDER WHY I SMELL LIKE IT?”

Stretch put out his cigarette with an odd smile, like he’d thought of a private joke. “Heh, I wonder why too. Can’t think of any reasons for it.”

Papyrus wondered at the strange tone but instead elected to drain his cup. He put it down with a satisfying clink, then picked up the teapot to pour another cup. He was glad Stretch put on the porch lights, otherwise he wouldn’t be able to aim. Stretched moved next to him, turning towards Papyrus and holding himself up on one elbow. “So why did you want to know that?”

“RIGHT. WELL. IT’S KIND OF WEIRD,” Papyrus started as he poured in the milk. “YOU SMELL LIKE TEA TO ME.”

Stretch blinked. “What?”

“LIKE TEA, STRETCH! AND IT KEPT BUGGING ME, BECAUSE YOU ARE ABOUT AS FAR FROM A TEA LOVER AS ONE CAN GET! I THOUGHT MAYBE IT WAS FROM SPENDING TIME AT MUFFET’S, BUT SHE DOESN’T SERVE TEA! AND YOU DON’T LIKE TEA! SO WHY DO YOU SMELL LIKE TEA???”

Stretch looked at him, then slowly, ever so carefully, raised his arm in a ‘how the fuck should I know’ gesture. “Maybe I remind you of tea, somehow???”

“HOW WOULD YOU REMIND ME OF TEA???” Papyrus gesticulated. “IT’S A VERY REFINED, MELLOW, WARM DRINK THAT HELPS ME CALM DOWN AND IS VERY SOOTHING, AND ALSO IS GREAT AT RECHARGING ME AFTER A BAD-OH.”

Stretch made a face at him. “What do you mean, oh???”

“I, ER. NOTHING,” Papyrus said, looking intently at his cup. Well. Seems he answered his own question, and also answered the ever present question people asked him, way too many times by now: why did he hang out with Stretch when they had so little in common?

“I SUPPOSE…IT WILL REMAIN A MYSTERY???” he concluded, swirling the tea in his cup. Stretch looked at him for a bit longer, then flopped back onto the porch with a frustrated sigh.

“Well, that was a fun talk, I guess,” he said, stretching on the porch. “You want to watch Mulan again?”

“WHAT KIND OF QUESTION IS THAT?” Papyrus said with a tone of disdain. “YOU KNOW I’M ALWAYS UP FOR MULAN.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 1) I actually see this chapter as them being platonic soulmates-they complete each other and support one another in a way outsiders can't understand. However, if you see this as a romantic ship, feel free to see it that way lmao.  
2) I have no idea how I pulled this "monster scent changes depending on the scentee" headcanon out of my ass, but I like it a lot actually  
3) This chapter may or may not be just me wanking about my love of tea.


	4. Day 3: Trust (EdgePuff aka UF/UT)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A comission for [Essy](https://messedupessy.tumblr.com/)! She wanted a fic between my Papyrus and her Edge, so I provided. I hope you like it :3

Papyrus chugged down a prodigious amount of water from his bottle, letting it go with a gasp for air. He heard Edge laugh quietly beside him, his own bottle put to the side of the porch stairs they were sitting on. “Slow down, the water’s not going anywhere.”

Papyrus wiped the sweat off the side of his skull with his wristband. “How do you know??? Maybe it’s planning a sneaky retreat! Maybe my tactic has ensured that I don’t die a sad, waterless death!” he announced, the corners of his mouth twitching as Edge laughed next to him. Papyrus watched the scarred skeleton as he calmed down again, his usual frown and determined gaze creased in mirth. It was a good look on him.

“A true tactician doesn’t allow retreat. I’ve taught you well,” Edge joked back, leaning back on his hands. His sockets creased and his teeth grit for just a moment at the motion before relaxing, and if Papyrus didn’t know what to look out for he would have missed the small signs of discomfort. As it was, all he could do was sigh indulgently. Edge had never been the best at taking care of himself.

“Is your hip alright? I hit your leg pretty hard,” Papyrus asked, putting his water away. Edge’s smile twitched upwards.

“It always hurts at least a bit, you didn’t mess it up more than it usually is,” he answered. “Don’t even think of apologizing.”

Papyrus hummed. “I wasn’t planning to. It’s an obvious weak spot and I can’t take it easy on you if I want to win!”

Edge smiled, reassured. “Good.”

Papyrus leaned back on his hands as well, looking to the sky. The Sun was setting, the sky dipping into its wonderful evening colours like every other evening when it wasn’t cloudy. Papyrus tried very hard to ignore his hand inches away from Edge’s, wondering how to put some distance between them without seeming too obvious. “Oh, you told me you had a correction on my form before? Do you want to show me?”

Edge nodded, slowly standing up, using the railing to bear his weight. He waved a hand towards him, calling Papyrus to stand in front of him. “Can you take the stance you had when you were making the bone cage?”

Papyrus nodded, dropping into a lower stance, legs spread, knees bent, his control hand in front and his other hand to the side, ready to summon bones to deflect attacks coming towards him. Edge hummed, twisting sideways to look at the stance, slowly walking around him. Without preamble, he kicked him in the side of his knee, making Papyrus buckle and fall to his knee with a yelp. He glared back at Edge from the ground, part of it jokingly and part of it annoyed, which made Edge smirk.

“You’re not stable enough in your stance. An attack to your legs will knock you down if you stand that high, you need better balance. Get up, I’ll show you,” Edge said while offering his hand, so Papyrus rubbed his aching knee and got back up, using the hand for leverage, back into his previous stance. His skull coloured when Edge grabbed his hips from behind, pushing them into a lower position. To adjust to it Papyrus had to spread his legs further, and once he was stable Edge removed his hands to look over him once more. Between the touches and the close scrutiny, Papyrus was feeling decidedly hot under the scarf. Unfortunately, Edge then put his hand on the back of his lower spine and the other on the front of his ribcage and pushed, forcing Papyrus into a more upright position.

“There we go. The lower your center the more balanced you’ll be, and it will be harder to kick you over. Also, you bend forwards too much while you attack. It makes you take longer to evade hits, because then you have to move your upper body more. Be careful of that,” he said, sounding like a proper teacher with his even, detached tone, but his mouth was so close to Papyrus’ skull he couldn’t help but freeze. He barely suppressed a shiver when Edge hummed, his breath ghosting across his skull, his hands warming the bone underneath. “Try not to tense up like this while fighting. The more loose your body, the faster you can move.”

“Right! Right. I’ll, uh. Loosen my body in the future!!!” Papyrus exclaimed, snapping into his usual upright position. He could feel the formerly cooled sweat from their spar start gathering again on his neck from the sheer heat of his blush. “Wowie, I sure am tired! You’re probably very tired!! We shouldn’t train too hard or we’ll hurt ourselves!!! How would you like some tea???”

He heard Edge start to say something, but he escaped to the house before he could hear it. Too close. That was too close!!! Papyrus got to work brewing tea, focusing on the flowery descriptions of the aroma on the side of the tea can instead of the touch he could feel lingering on his bones. He knew it wasn’t anything more than Edge explaining positions. And even in casual conversations, he knew his rare touches were never anything more than platonic affection. Never anything more. He gripped the tin harder, picking at the label with impressive vigor. With a quiet grunt of frustration, he put it down before he damaged it, then breathed in deeply, exhaling slowly, and waited for the tea kettle to start whistling.

He opened his sockets, watching the steam rise from the hot water as he poured it, carrying a strong herbal aroma. Never anything more. Edge and Stretch were his friends, and he knew what the right thing to do was. Another minute of deep breaths and focusing on the way the steam contorted in the air, after which he drained the tea and took the cups to the living room. Edge was sitting at the table and typing on his phone, sitting at a dining chair in a pretty awkward position. He looked up from his phone when he heard Papyrus enter and smiled, and Papyrus couldn’t resist smiling back. “There we go! Sea tea. Hopefully it helps with your hip a bit,” Papyrus said.

Edge nodded in gratitude, taking his cup and trying a tiny sip, putting it down to cool. “Thank you, I hope so too. Food doesn’t always help, though.”

“I know. Worth a try, at least,” Papyrus said, pulling out a chair and sitting down, one chair of space between them. He knew better than to drink his tea right away, but the heat of it in his hands was nice. He watched Edge go back to typing on his phone, then when his attention was fully taken with texting he glanced towards his hip. Papyrus knew he couldn’t do green magic, but he wished he could learn. At the very least to relieve pain, even if the joint couldn’t be fixed anymore.

A quiet snort made him look at Edge’s face. His magic sparked as he watched Edge smile wide, covering his teeth with his fist, looking at his phone with a warm expression. Papyrus smiled in response, a chuckle escaping him. “So what’s Stretch writing to you now?”

Edge looked at him in surprise, as if he forgot for a moment that Papyrus was there, as if Papyrus’ ribcage didn’t sting at the knowledge. Then he blushed, looking away in embarrassment. “That obvious, am I?”

Papyrus laughed louder, letting the sting die off, as it should. “Don’t be shy! It’s very sweet how you get all gooey and blushy when he texts you!”

Edge blushed harder, but Papyrus noticed his embarrassment was undercut by an air of smugness, maybe even pride. Papyrus wasn’t lying about that part-Edge really shined brightest when he was in love. Edge laughed eventually, turning his phone and showing it to Papyrus. “He found another pair of crocs he likes. Honestly, he has more pairs than he can reasonably wear and these are _horrid_.”

Papyrus angled the phone towards him, carefully not touching Edge while doing so. On screen was several messages of Stretch laughing, spamming weird emojis, and worshiping crocs. He scrolled up a bit to finally see a picture of a white pair of crocs with socks built into them. Above the picture was a message from Edge, flirting shamelessly with Stretch. Papyrus scrolled down just enough to not see it and then gave Edge back the phone. “That was probably the worst thing I’ve seen all week.”

“I know, right? And the damn things cost a hundred dollars. For something that ugly!” Edge said, throwing his hands up in the air. “Can you believe I’m still going to buy them for him???”

“Yes, I can,” Papyrus answered, smiling into his cup before finally taking a sip. Bitter. He let the tea steep too long. “You dote on him so much!”

Edge waved the accusation away. “I dote on him just enough. What kind of mate would I be if I didn’t spoil him a bit?”

Papyrus’ gaze slipped towards Edge’s left hand, holding the cup of steaming tea. Edge was wearing gloves as usual, but Papyrus knew beneath the worn leather was a cherry red sun, the circle of it running across the back of his metacarpals, the sun’s rays curling around his fingers, perfectly matching the sun Stretch had on his own hand that he kept uncovered for the world to see. Papyrus let out a sigh, his face automatically stretching into a weak smile. “That’s true. One should cherish their soulmate! As hard as possible!!! That was one of the actually useful pieces of advice Undyne had for me. That and the fire safety tips.”

Edge nodded sagely. “Fire safety is important,” he said, then went back to his tea. They didn’t speak more after that, but Papyrus appreciated the company nonetheless. After they said their goodbyes (and Papyrus gave Edge a plate of his new pasta attempt), Papyrus closed the door to an empty house. He grimaced when he shifted and felt the cooled sweat sticking inside his joints, so he grabbed a change of clothes and headed towards the bathroom. He kept an eye out for errant shorts or socks, courtesy of Sans, but thankfully his mess was contained to his own room for now.

He took a deep, shuddering breath once he closed the door, finally feeling hidden away. Today had been rough. Not rough to the point that he couldn’t be happy for his friends’ happiness, but it still felt like his soul was abraded, patches that were rubbed raw stinging on contact with air. He didn’t have a physical soul hanging out, of course, but the feeling was still there.

He took off his shirt, then shorts and underwear, all of it going in the hamper. Socks followed, then finally his own gloves which he put to the side. He stepped into the shower, putting the water to boiling, then took one of his brushes and got to scrubbing all the little nooks and crannies that sweat and dirt liked to build up in. Whenever his mind wandered to the times he saw Edge and Stretch get flirty, Edge smiling and Stretch embarrassed but both so happy, he scrubbed a little harder until he could remember that his soul fluttered in happiness when he saw them happy, and that feeling upset and jealous was not what a good friend, or even a grown adult, would do. He put the brush back in place, hesitating with his left hand above the next, smaller brush. The hand where a navy blue spiral curled around his phalanges, winding around his wrist and ending on his radius and ulna. The mark he knew Edge didn’t have.

He took the brush, getting back to work. If the harsh scrubbing made his sockets sting, then so be it. Tomorrow he was meeting up with Edge to train again and he needed to get this tangled mess of feelings out of his system and under control beforehand.

He wasn’t sure if his sockets were leaking or if it was just the shower water running down his face, but when he went to bed later he did feel a bit calmer.

Spiral pattern, followed by a line of alternating cyan and regular bones. Papyrus dodged each expertly, keeping his body in the proper position. Edge was right-as much as it took more effort to take the correct stance, he did move just a bit faster. Slide to the side, then Papyrus threw rows of bones at Edge in a wide diameter, making them grow taller and shorter as they moved to make jumping over them more difficult. He cursed when Edge, instead of jumping too low and hitting the bones as he expected, summoned bone attacks and hit several of his, making them collapse into fizzling magic and creating an opening for Edge to elegantly step through.

Edge smiled at him, breath coming out in pants. As quick as he was to deal with the attacks Papyrus flung at him, his much greater battle experience still didn’t fully make up for his lower stamina. Papyrus knew he could go longer than Edge, and he knew his attack speed was greater. As long as he kept fighting and got through the initial onslaught, Edge would slow down as he grew tired. All it took was one good opening.

Papyrus ducked under the bones flung at him around face-height, while weaving through the sharp bones piercing from the ground into the sky. One of his evasions was just a touch too wide, the sting of a magic attack just barely connecting to his foot and inflicting damage pulsing up his leg. He ran forward, falling into a forward roll to evade a flying bone, his hand dragging through the dry earth. He heard Edge grunt as he created new attacks, diverting him to the opposite side of his injured hip-obviously having wisened up from the many times Papyrus had tried to hit it.

The fresh batch of bones kept him moving sideways, unable to get closer to Edge-at least until he took a page from his book and knocked a few bones away, getting a step closer. Edge had another protective layer of bones rise between them, but Papyrus didn’t need to come closer than he was. Instead, he gripped the sandy earth in his hand and flung it at Edge’s face, making the other skeleton flinch back and blink in surprise. His attacks flew at Papyrus to keep him away, but they weren’t as precise as usual. Papyrus grinned as he evaded, carefully watching Edge try and rub out the grains stinging his sockets, red magic bubbling in the corners to force them out.

Evading to the side and out of sight, Papyrus let several regular bones go, forcing Edge to evade them half-blind, stumbling backwards. As a final touch, Papyrus created a wave of cyan bones, harder to see against the background, approach Edge from the back. He held his breath, waiting to see if Edge would notice, dodge at the last moment.

With a surprised grunt, the cyan attacks hit Edge’s ankles and knees, knocking him over onto his sacrum. Papyrus completed the circle he’d been running, ending up in front of Edge just as he’d summoned a bone attack in his hand. With a fast, tight swing, he struck down the bone at his full strength, the bone digging into the ground until the head of it was buried. Barely an inch between the bullet and Edge’s torso.

Edge froze, one of his hands raised to counterattack and the other holding him up. He looked to the side, blinking to try and clear the magic and sand in his sockets, staring at the bone Papyrus was still holding. His mouth twitched, like he was trying not to smile, before he slid slowly to the ground, body unwinding from its tense state. “…Seems like it’s your win, this time.”

Papyrus grinned triumphantly, letting his bone attack dissolve into magic dust. “Nyeh-heh, not a problem at all for the Great Papyrus! My clever maneuvers have outmaneuvered yours!!!”

Edge closed his eyes, taking his short sleeve at the shoulder and trying to clear his sockets with it. “That was a clever ruse, I admit. I forget you’re a dirty fighter sometimes.”

“Like I said: I can’t afford to go easy on you!” Papyrus explained, leaning onto his knees. He may have more stamina than Edge, but that didn’t mean he wasn’t tired. He allowed himself a minute to catch his breath while Edge fished out the last of the sand from his sockets, then finally straightened up and held out a hand. With a grateful-and to Papyrus’ eyes, very enticing in its intensity-look, Edge took his hand and used it to get himself on his feet. He seemed fine going up, but as he put weight onto his bad leg it buckled. Papyrus grabbed him around the waist, even as Edge caught himself in time.

“Careful! Are you hurt?” Papyrus asked, a sick feeling building in his ribcage. He knew Edge expected him to go all our and respected Papyrus’ willingness to do so, and Papyrus both enjoyed cutting loose and impressing Edge, but he did try not to harm him too much. Injuries happened, sure, but Papyrus would never forgive himself for injuring him for real.

Edge waved off his concern, putting the hand closer to Papyrus on his shoulder for support. Papyrus distantly noted that between the hand on the shoulder and his own arm around his ribcage Edge was tantalizingly close to him, but quickly he focused back to the task at hand. “I fell a bit sideways when you knocked me down. I’ll be fine,” Edge said calmly, slight strain in his voice.

Papyrus clicked his tongue, summoned specially for the occasion. “You worried me, you know!!! Please don’t lose that leg just because you’re training me. I can handle an easier session, you know?” he said. Edge shook his head with a smile. Papyrus started slowly walking in tandem with him, one slow, careful step at a time, before reaching the steps where he could deposit the other skeleton. Thankfully Edge seemed well enough to hop into a sitting position on his own, without too much of a grimace. Seems he was better than Papyrus feared.

“Maybe you can handle an easier session, but I can’t. I won’t win if I take it easy on you,” Edge explained, starting to stretch his legs. Papyrus took a seat next to Edge, the narrow stair always forcing them to sit just a bit closer than Papyrus felt comfortable with. He rested his hands on his lap, looking Edge in the face. He didn’t seem like he was lying, but he wouldn’t be the first one who did.

“…Are you being serious?” Papyrus finally hazarded to ask, fingers tangling in the edge of his crop top. Edge looked at him with an annoyed expression, as if Papyrus had just asked him a stupid question.

“Papyrus, I’m not sure what’s confusing you, but you kick my ass at least one out of three times we spar. Given that you have no real combat experience and I’m the Captain of the Royal Guard on top of having several LV on you, it’s honestly a bit terrifying that you can keep up with me so well,” Edge explained, gesticulating with his hand. Papyrus nodded, feeling his face growing hotter. “You should feel prouder of your abilities. Few can do what you can.”

Papyrus coughed into his fist in surprise and then covered his face with his hands, unable to hide his whole skull flushing. Edge had a talent for saying some pretty amazing things very casually. “Thanks-thank you. That’s. Very sweet of you.”

Edge just scoffed in dismissal, stretching his knees out. Papyrus knew he should do the same to get the magic flowing and repair all the unnoticeable damage he’d sustained, but instead he spread his fingers a bit more, watching Edge through the gaps. How his spine arched into the movement. How his long bones took up space, graceful and powerful, like a predator that knew just how high on the food chain it was. How Papyrus had never felt so flustered and yet so at peace around another person in his entire life.

Edge looked at him, making Papyrus jolt in place and his magic tingle. “Are you alright, Papyrus? You seem…uncomfortable. Did you overuse your magic?”

Papyrus put his hands down, looking to the side. “Oh, no no, I’m fine! Just a bit-” he said, sputtering as Edge leaned in closer, sockets squinting at him. Papyrus was starting to sweat again from the sheer heat of his magic skittering across his bones. “Wh-you’re! Very close to me, Edge!! Which I have no problem with, due to us being friends, but did you maybe get more nearsighted in the last 5 minutes so you need to be closer to see me???”

Edge frowned, putting one hand on Papyrus’ chin to tilt his skull slightly, still staring intently. At this point Papyrus’ upper brain functions, which were already lacking due to him not having a brain, decided to abandon him completely, and all he could hear in his skull was vigorous screaming. “I can’t help it if I can’t see from a distance, you know. I’m just checking to see your magic, it wouldn’t be good if you overexerted yourself,” Edge explained, pulling back a bit, but not nearly far enough away. His hand still on his chin. Then, as a final blow, he smiled-that radiant smile, the one that made his sockets crinkle up and his little birthmark stand out and made his scars look even more handsome and fierce. “What would I do if you got sick?”

The vigorous screaming stopped and his skull fell quiet, as did the world. For a second, all that existed in the world was Papyrus’ raging magic and Edge’s smile. Just as Edge tilted his head in concern, Papyrus leaned forward, closed the small gap with perhaps excessive speed and touched his teeth to Edge’s, clinking lightly.

The spark of magic that their touch produced sent a shiver down his spine, delicious in a way he was wholly unused to. He stayed still, reluctant to move as he opened his sockets to see Edge’s face, wanting, needing more of him, needing his gaze on him, and was met with two wide open sockets, the eye lights out completely. Papyrus let out his breath all at once, his ribcage feeling like it just got punched.

“Oh-oh my god,” Papyrus gasped out, the gravity of what he just did slamming into him all at once. He jumped back, his magic rolling. God, he was going to be sick. “Shit, I’m so sorry Edge-I don’t know what I was thinking, I’m so sorry!!!”

He tried to apologize more, his hands wringing hard as he tried not to touch Edge, to reassure him, make everything ok. It wasn’t ok for him to touch Edge after what he just did. But every time he opened his mouth all he could make was impotent noises, trying to form apologies but knowing they wouldn’t fix things.

Edge had straightened up, his eye lights still gone, staring at Papyrus. Slowly he raised his hand, resting his long fingers on his mouth as his eye lights slowly started to come back. Papyrus was already consumed with guilt for doing the stupidest thing imaginable to his friend-his TAKEN friend-but when those eye lights met his, he suddenly also realized things would never be the same between them, no matter what he did. His sockets stung.

“I’m sure you would like some space from me right now, so I think I’ll go to the…store now? Y-you can pretend that never happened, if you like,” Papyrus stuttered, getting up and almost losing his footing on the stairs. He couldn’t quite see where he was stepping through his blurry vision. “Be sure to eat a good dinner tonight! No skipping meals! Have a good ni-”

A hand clasped his wrist in a vice grip, making his formerly moving body jolt back. Papyrus just barely held in a sniffle as he kept his gaze to the floor. He wasn’t sure he could keep the tears back if he looked at Edge and saw his anger and disappointment, and he didn’t want to make the other feel bad by crying.

“You’re running away?” Edge asked, voice stern. Papyrus swallowed some of the building magic in his mouth, letting his arm fall limply to his side as Edge let it go. He sure wanted to run away, pretend this never happened and stay friends with Edge and not screw up their entire close relationship with his stupid, stupid crush.

But Edge respected him. Really respected him, deeply, in a way nobody had before. He wasn’t a kid to him, or a ditz, or naive, or someone that needed babying. Edge always saw him as nothing less than an equal, and always gave back the respect Papyrus gave him. Respect he would lose if he ran away like a coward. It was possibly the most difficult thing he’d ever done in his life, turning around to face Edge as his entire body and soul screamed at him to escape, and the only thing that made him raise his head and meet Edge’s gaze was the knowledge that it was the right thing to do.

Edge didn’t look livid, thankfully-he didn’t even look hurt. Overall, from the strong frown and furrowed brows that didn’t quite touch his sockets, he just looked…confused. A tiny, distant part of Papyrus wanted to laugh like every time Edge made that face, but he’d never been less likely to laugh in his life. Edge held his gaze for a moment, seeming to relax incrementally, before looking to the side and coughing into his fist. Papyrus noted the blush creeping up his neck, wanting to kick himself for embarrassing the other skeleton like this and putting him in such an awkward situation.

“So. What was that?” Edge asked, voice strained. Papyrus shifted his weight, wanting desperately to look at anything but Edge’s sockets, but he couldn’t. Not now.

“Er. That was a kiss?” Papyrus answered, his magic heating even more in shame. Maybe he could have played this off as a mistake? Accidental contact of mouth to mouth, and the magic they shared just a fluke?

Edge snorted, covering his mouth with his fist. Papyrus ducked his head into his scarf, as if it could hide him. “I figured that part out. Why did you kiss me?”

The deciding moment. Papyrus had a clear choice-play the kiss off as a joke, or curiosity, or a moment of madness, and go back to their usual friendship. A tempting proposition for sure, especially since the one thing he couldn’t stand was losing Edge’s friendship. Next, he could play it off as attraction, purely physical, and apologize profusely for letting his attraction towards a man with a mate show.

Lastly, the most terrifying option, to tell Edge his feelings and let the chips fall where they may. He wasn’t stupid enough to think Edge would ever leave Stretch-the two were made for each other, both by their marks and their whole beings-and he knew he would be rejected. So why ruin their friendship for impossibilities and fleeting dreams? Papyrus could bury his feelings again, until his soul dimmed and he was ready to push himself to find someone else. Someone he could make happy the way Edge made him happy.

“It was just…” he started, watching Edge’s eye lights focus intently on him. He stopped himself, teeth clicking shut. Edge had always treated him with respect and honesty. Blunt to a painful point, Edge had always told him to his face all his true thoughts and opinions, holding nothing back. So when he praised him, cherished him, Papyrus trusted him like he trusted nobody else. Edge would never lie to him, so he never worried he was just humouring him or making fun of him. If Edge thought Papyrus could succeed, he definitely could.

Papyrus ran his fingers over his mark, a good luck charm as much as it was a curse. Could he really be the first to break their trust with lies? Could he really hurt Edge? And even if Edge never found out, could Papyrus look at himself without disgust if he didn’t show his friend the trust he had earned?

He took a deep breath, the air tickling his ribs. “I like you,” he said, gaze unwavering, furrowing his brows in resolve. “I’ve liked you for a while now, even though I know you have a mate you love and you’re both my friends. I’m sorry for putting you in this position, and for kissing you without asking.”

Edge’s brows climbed slowly upwards, his mouth parting in surprise. Papyrus felt his magic calm down, even as his core rolled, and he let out the slightest huff of amusement before he finally looked away. There, it was out now. Papyrus couldn’t quite feel his face or fingers from the previous panic, but his mind felt like it was winding down a bit from his frantic spiral. He had been honest and apologized, and now it was on Edge to decide if he wanted to have any form of relationship with him afterwards. The glass was shattered, and now he could figure out how to pick up the pieces.

“I-I see. I didn’t…realize,” Edge squeezed out. Papyrus looked at him. His blush was rather impressive-last time Papyrus had seen him this red was when Stretch insisted on making out with him under the mistletoe in the middle of a shopping mall-and Papyrus was distantly amused by just how puzzled he looked. Edge was confident, steady and suave most of the time, so it was rare to see him this flustered. Papyrus grit his teeth to keep his mouth closed. He’d done enough damage already; he really didn’t need to start chuckling just because Edge was cute when thrown off-balance.

“I’m not mad at you. For kissing me, I mean,” Edge started, tugging his gloves on harder. A nervous habit of his, but not one Papyrus saw often. Not around him, at least. “…I think I’ll need some time and space to think this over. I do have a mate, and I don’t think it’s appropriate to make any decisions without notifying him first. I’ll…call you once I’m ready to talk this through.”

Papyrus swallowed, the magic pooling in his mouth from the nervous nausea. Of course. Edge would never hide something like this from Stretch, he was always honest with his soulmate. He’d only now realized that he wasn’t just potentially losing Edge forever, but also Stretch. He felt the sting of magic in his sockets again. He liked Stretch. He was a great friend of his, and he really didn’t want to think about the wrench this would throw into their relationship, the arguments the two might have that his actions caused. He’d never forgive himself if the two split up because of his stupid lack of control. The image of them angry at each other, no little smiles and blushes between them anymore, hurt even more than the idea of them cutting him off.

You reap what you’ve sown, Asgore told him once. Actions have consequences, but through a weird botanical metaphor. Papyrus smiled, forcing his magic back. “Of course! Take your time.”

Edge nodded, looking away, then got up slowly. Papyrus held out his arm out without thinking to offer help. He felt those infernal, tantalizing tingles when Edge grabbed onto it and hauled himself upright, his magic still reacting to his proximity as if he wasn’t going to cry hysterically as soon as Edge left over his screw-up. Edge dusted off his pants, meeting Papyrus gaze briefly only to look away, his magic staining his skull. He gathered his things before Papyrus could help, and with a nod and a goodbye he walked through Papyrus’ house, expertly evading every pitfall and prank Sans had installed in it, and through the front door. Papyrus waved him off with a smile, but he closed his sockets so he couldn’t see if Edge waved back.

When he closed the door there was already magic spilling onto his face. He hiccuped loudly, taking off his gloves to put them in his teeth, the leather muffling the sounds he made, and his hand with the soulmark covering his sockets.

The days stretched on in a slowly moving blur as he waited for a message or call from his friends, but looking back he had no idea what he’d done all day between looking at the phone screen. Sans seemed to have picked up on his distress, but Papyrus refused to elaborate to him. He wasn’t sure if Sans would judge him for his actions or accept and forgive him, and at this point he wasn’t sure which would hurt more. Still, he spent a lot of time watching movies with his brother, their banter a good distraction, or training alone. He didn’t want to spar with Undyne when his mind was all over the place, and he really didn’t want her to have one of her rare moments of incredible insight and start pestering him. Unlike Sans, she wasn’t likely to back off and leave him be.

He didn’t sleep. He never slept much, but his short-lived peace of putting everything out in the open was quickly replaced by the soul-gnawing worry of all the ways things could go badly. Losing Edge and Stretch, so no more sparring or dinners made together or late night movies or nagging them both to take better care of themselves. Possibly losing the respect of Berry and Red as well. If the two never wanted to see him again, he’d have to plan where he went during the day to avoid running into them. His life was most likely about to get much, much more awkward and difficult.

He couldn’t regret it, though. Maybe he should. He did regret falling for Edge, he regretted not getting over his crush, he regretted the kiss immensely, but he didn’t regret confessing to Edge at the end. A part of him, buried under layers of guilt and a mass of nerves, was quietly proud of confessing, as discourteous as it was of him to hoist his feelings onto a taken man. He’d never mustered the courage to tell someone his feelings before. And he could now proudly say he had never lied to Edge, to the very end if the scarred skeleton chose so. That was worth something, at least.

He was lying in his bed, begging his mind to slow down enough to finally have his nap when his phone lit up. He squinted at the screen, noting the late hour, and then checked the message. He snapped fully awake when he realized Edge had texted him and sat up to read. It wasn’t a long message.

_I WOULD LIKE TO TALK TO YOU. ARE YOU FREE TOMORROW AFTERNOON? _

Papyrus rubbed his socket, trying to chase away the itchiness. _TOMORROW OR TODAY? _he asked, the sound of his taps loud in the quiet room. It took Edge a few seconds to respond.

_TODAY, APPARENTLY. I AM SORRY, I DIDN’T REALIZE THE HOUR. I HOPE I DID NOT WAKE YOU UP._

Papyrus chuckled. Edge always apologized for his late-night calls and texts, even though Papyrus rarely ever slept at this time. _I AM FREE, YES. AND I WASN’T SLEEPING. YOU, HOWEVER, SHOULD BE IN BED! DO I HAVE TO TELL STRETCH TO GET YOU AWAY FROM YOUR PAPERWORK AND TO TAKE CARE OF YOUR HEALTH?!_

Another few seconds while Edge typed. _PLEASE DON’T TELL HIM, I SAID I WOULD GO TO SLEEP AT A REASONABLE HOUR. I WILL SEE YOU TOMORROW THEN._

There were so many things Papyrus could write. Another slew of apologies was a strong contender, a few more threats to get Edge to finally take care of his health and stop working himself to the bone another. Asking him if they were still friends was also option. But in the end, he only sent a gif of a skeleton in a wedding dress nodding and saying “aw yis” and then put the phone back on his nightstand, screen down. He argued with himself for a few seconds, then with a sigh he got up and approached his computer, turning it on in defeat. Might as well kill some time, since he wasn’t going to sleep any time soon.

The spread on his table was immaculate, if he said so himself-nicely toasted garlic bread and butter as an appetizer, a fancy pasta he’d been trying to make work and that was coming close to good, and an unopened bottle of wine, Edge’s drink of choice, even though Papyrus had no idea if this was good wine. He couldn’t even tell different wines apart except to note if they were sour or not and if they made him want to perish immediately or later on. He felt nervous about not making fresh dessert, but the leftover pumpkin pie would have to suffice.

Papyrus straightened the plates, then started putting away the cutlery and plates again, then with a groan putting them back in place, the same song and dance he’s been up to the last two hours and probably the reason Sans decided he didn’t want to stick around and left for Grillby’s indefinitely. Papyrus frowned at the food, the two seats.

It looked like a dinner date. He could imagine asking Edge out and making a similar meal for their date, after the proper one he put a lot of thought into fell through due to bad weather, where they’d eat his food and talk and maybe watch a movie later. Inappropriate as it was, and as much as he tried to cut off his line of thinking, his traitorous mind kept crawling back to the image, like a wound you couldn’t resist poking. It hurt like one, too.

He angled the knives just right again, the aroma doing nothing for his appetite. He didn’t want to be a bad host and not feed Edge, though. And he’d cooked for the two of them, before-for the three of them even, on a few memorable occasions. He felt like he was taking care of Edge with his food, since he knew he rarely bothered or had time for a home-cooked meal, and most other ways of caring for him felt off limits. Stretch was his mate, so Papyrus would text him to ask him to keep an eye on Edge’s injuries or tell him he’d probably fallen asleep doing his paperwork, but one thing Stretch couldn’t do was cook. And it brought a warm, guilt-spiked feeling that he could provide him with something nobody else did.

He snapped his head up as he heard knocking on the front door, quickly taking a deep breath, letting it out slowly to prepare. He would consider it a win if he didn’t vomit tonight.

When he opened the door, Edge was standing there, in all his well-dressed glory, his gaze meeting his own. Papyrus swallowed his magic back, then put on his absolute biggest smile. It only hurt his face a little. “Edge! Come in, I made some food if you’d like it. I know you didn’t eat at work, you noodle!”

Edge huffed in surprise, smiling into his fist as if Papyrus couldn’t see it. When he looked up, his sockets shining in mirth, Papyrus felt his stomach roll for an entirely different reason. “Ah, stars forbid I come to your house and don’t get pelted with food. How hospitable.”

Papyrus blushed a little, moving aside to let Edge in. “You know me, Hospitable is my middle name! That, or Great. I’ve never actually seen my birth certificate,” he blathered on, wringing his hands while Edge took his coat off, following him into his living room where the table was. Edge seemed more at ease right now in Papyrus’ house than Papyrus did. He wished he could feel that confidence on the regular. “If you’re not up to food right now, I could pack some up for you? Or I could make something if you want-”

“Thank you, Papyrus. Truly,” Edge interrupted, putting his index finger right in front of Papyrus’ mouth, the teasing smirk making Papyrus relax marginally. “I appreciate the food, but I would rather we…discuss things first.”

He let his finger fall, Papyrus following it with his gaze. “Right. You can sit wherever you like.”

Edge nodded in thanks, taking a seat on the couch, scooted to one end and leaving the other half empty. The blatant invitation made Papyrus take another deep breath to calm down, taking the other end and trying not to rattle from nerves. There was space between them but Papyrus still felt like they were too close for him to think straight.

Edge was looking at his hands, rubbing his thumb with his other thumb, the movement eye-catching and strange. At first Papyrus thought it was because it seemed like a nervous gesture, something Edge rarely allowed himself, but then Papyrus’ sockets widened when he realized it was because his hands were bare. He didn’t know how he didn’t notice it the moment Edge came into the house-he’d only seen him without gloves twice before, and his soul mark drew the gaze with its colour, a contrast to the bone underneath.

“As promised, I’ve thought things over and talked to Stretch about…about what you said,” Edge started, Papyrus’ gaze snapping to his face. A flush of colour was slowly climbing across Edge’s nasal ridge and onto his cheeks, as well as his neck. “Stretch and I have an...understanding, one we’ve had from the beginning of our relationship. I never expected I’d be the one to find someone interested first, but I can’t say I’m not flattered. And surprised. I honestly had no idea you felt that way.”

Papyrus swallowed his nerves. He wasn’t sure what Edge was talking about, but he smiled in amusement anyways. “Since you’re incredibly thick-skulled about any sort of romantic affection, I’m not surprised you had no idea! I was banking on that, anyways.”

Edge rubbed his face with his hand, the blush intensifying. “Don’t remind me. Stretch actually had to-”

“-Make a giant banner, throw glitter, and then kiss you for you to get it,” Papyrus interrupted, smile turning smug. “Honestly, who do you think helped him? Do you know how hard you are to distract while he set up??”

Edge looked up to him, blinking in surprise. Papyrus had to admit to himself that the blush was very, very becoming. “I didn’t know you helped him.”

“Of course I did! You two were painfully obvious about your affections, and between you being obtuse and Stretch being about as communicative as a snail, someone had to help you! Admittedly, Berry had a bigger role in the whole plan, but still. Who would ever stand between two people in love?” Papyrus said, waving his hand to punctuate his sentences. As if he wasn’t doing that just now. It’s a wonder Edge was even speaking to him.

Edge smiled, his mouth stretching slowly, as if his face would break if he smiled too suddenly. “Did you like me, even back then?”

Papyrus tilted his head, folding his hands back in his lap. It wasn’t as difficult to deal with back then as it was now, but he remembered the feeling of sorrow in his soul, finding out the two shared a mark. The stinging in his sockets as he smiled, as happy as he was resigned when the two announced their new relationship. “I think so, yes. I thought I would get over it eventually. I…didn’t manage, I guess.”

Edge’s sockets softened as he stretched his hand out, brushing fingers across his cheekbone. Papyrus froze, magic pulsing at the gentle touch. He looked at the hand from the corner of his socket, noting it was the one without a mark. “And if I told you you don’t have to get over it? That your confession made me happy?”

Papyrus inhaled sharply as the caress slid down to his jaw, closer to his sensitive neck. With a slight flinch he moved away, out of reach, then smiled politely. He knew it didn’t reach above his mouth. “What are you aiming for, Edge? I am serious about how I feel towards you. I don’t appreciate you dismissing it as some kind of ego-stroke, or…or an opportunity to cheat!”

Edge’s hand drew back, his sockets widening. “What? No! I would never do that!! I meant that-I would like to be with you! Properly! I want to have a relationship with you!”

Papyrus frowned. “But you’re with Stretch. You’re soulmates! Are you no longer happy together? Did something happen? Did you break up?!”

“No! We’re perfectly happy together! I just-” Edge said, then slapped his hands onto his femurs in frustration. Pointedly he took a deep breath, and when he looked at Papyrus with a more familiar, determined expression, even if his blush was still prominent. “Stretch and I agreed when we started dating that if either of us found someone we wanted to date outside of our relationship, we would go for it. We are polyamorous. Neither of us has found someone they liked enough to ask out yet…until now.”

Papyrus blanked, mouth sitting agape as he stared at Edge. They weren’t…exclusive? For dating? Edge continued, rubbing the back of his neck. “We are very happy together. But neither of us is against the idea of the other dating someone else as well. He wants me to be happy, and when I told him being with you could make me happy he was all for it. You give me so much, Papyrus, and I enjoy your company. I want to make you happy in return.”

Papyrus’ mouth clicked shut, his magic burning his face. “But…you’re soulmates. We aren’t. Aren’t I just getting in the way?”

Edge’s blush went down as his sockets narrowed, his fists clenching. “You are_ never_ in our way, Papyrus. Never. We both care for you so much-maybe in different ways, but we both care about you and want you to be happy. You’ve always been a dear, precious friend of mine, someone I could trust and rely on. Someone I wanted to protect. Having a relationship with another person doesn’t change the one I have with you-you’ll always be someone precious to me.”

Papyrus felt magic gather in his sockets, forcing him to blink rapidly to keep it in. “I. I see.”

Edge’s expression softened and he raised his hand again. Papyrus didn’t move away this time, letting Edge run his finger under his sockets. “It’s like that for you too, isn’t it? You want Stretch and I to be happy, even if it’s without you. You don’t want us to break up. You just wish you could date me as well. Make me happy as well.”

Papyrus’ face scrunched up, magic finally spilling over. He wanted to move Edge’s hand away from his face, but it was comforting to have it there, wiping away tears. “Y-yes,” he said with a sob, “I want to support you. And I like it when you’re happy together. It just…hurt, because I thought I couldn’t be like that with you.”

Edge let out a huff of amusement, scooting closer to put his arms around Papyrus. Papyrus first tensed, then relaxed into the hug, the warmth of Edge’s bones making the tears come faster. “I th-thought you wouldn’t want to t-talk to me anymore,” he sobbed out, voice cracking. “I’d rather never tell you how I feel than luh-lose you!”

“Shh, shh, I know. I won’t leave you, Papyrus. Never,” Edge said, putting his hands on his skull, pulling back a bit. Papyrus clung on, hesitant to leave the warm embrace, but relented eventually, letting Edge look him in the face. “Consider that a promise. I’ll cherish you as you deserve to be cherished.”

Papyrus’ face felt too hot, whether from tears or his blush, Papyrus couldn’t tell anymore. “Can I ask for a favour, then? Since y-you want to date me?”

Edge tilted his skull, his smile coming back full force. “Of course. Anything your soul desires.”

Papyrus started pulling his gloves off, looking more at his hands than at Edge. “Can you…kiss me? A proper kiss this time. I made a royal mess of it the first time around.”

Edge laughed, an ecstatic sound, and without much preamble pressed his mouth to Papyrus’, their teeth clinking together. His magic flared to life, the contact with another’s magic making it tingle and spark, his face heating and relaxing by inches from their point of contact, the feeling slowly spreading down his neck. By the time he took his gloves off and laid his bare hands over Edge’s, the warm feeling had reached his toes, the entirety of his soul and magic beaming in joy. Edge pulled back slowly, Papyrus chasing after him to continue their kiss, but was stopped with a hand on his teeth. Edge was looking at him with a devilish smirk, face fully flushed and his breathing fast and erratic, matching Papyrus’ own. “No rush, Papyrus. As interested as I am,” he said with a snort-inducing wiggle of his brows, “if you start using your tongue, we’ll have our first time on this couch, and I prefer to put some effort in beforehand.”

Papyrus laughed, covering his sockets with his hand as heat started blooming in his chest at the thought. “Oh, alright. I’m not sure I’d mind, but maybe going about it properly is a better idea,” he said, lowering his hand to look at Edge’s face more. His smile fell when he noticed Edge wasn’t staring at Papyrus, but at his own hand. “Edge? Is something wrong?”

Edge stayed silent and motionless, creating a slow-rising panic in Papyrus’ soul. He was just about to ask what he’d done wrong when Edge slowly turned his hand around, showing the back of it. On it, a very light blue spiral was starting to appear and wind up to his radius and ulna, growing slowly, almost imperceptibly opaque. “Does your soulmark, perhaps, look like this?”

Papyrus soul fluttered inside him, his sockets watering again as he gently took hold of Edge’s hands. Side by side, one red sun and one blue spiral, both beautiful on the white, scarred bones. He tangled their fingers together, his own mark matching Edge’s new one perfectly.

“Well,” Papyrus said, before starting to laugh. He may have started crying again by the time Edge pulled him into another kiss, more frenzied this time, but he’d never felt happier.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Essy wanted the basic plot of this fic, but I have to complicate all my ideas so I introduced soulmates and polyamory.
> 
> Basically, I wanted to explore a few ideas I haven't seen that much of-soulmarks that aren't predetermined but appear after the two monsters "click", navigating polyamory with the existance of soulmarks and polyamory that is one person dating two and not a triangle (love me a good triangle poly ship, but the V type I wanted to see more of too!). Also I have to make Papyrus suffer before being happy because of who I am as a person.


	5. Day 4: Frustration (UT&SF)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For a late birthday present (more like a Christmas present) to [me-and-my-gaster](https://me-and-my-gaster.tumblr.com/)! You've been a great friend and I wanted to make a present, so here's my Papyrus and your Russy interacting!
> 
> This is based on an au I have going with her and [messedupessy](https://messedupessy.tumblr.com/), and is a kind of continuation of the last chapter (the Edgepuff one). So Essy's Edge and Papyrus are soulmates, Edge and Stretch are soulmates, then Papyrus started dating Stretch too, and then Russy started dating Stretch. So Papyrus now has to learn how to be friends with his datemate's new bf. I hope you like it!

Papyrus cleaned the dining table with jittery enthusiasm, one hand scrubbing with a cloth, the other spraying cleaning fluid at regular intervals, until the previously dirty surface showed his reflection. Papyrus nodded, the back of his neck prickling. “ALRIGHT, TABLE DONE! I STILL NEED TO DO THE DISHES, AND THEN I’M DONE FOR TODAY!”

Silence greeted him, only the slight sound of breathing, out of sync with his own, and the feeling of being watched a sign that Russy hadn’t moved from his spot on the couch. Where he’d been for the last half hour. Observing him.

Papyrus took a deep breath, carefully not looking at Russy. He carried his cleaning supplies into the kitchen cabinet, the cloth rinsed and squeezed out and left to dry to be put away later, then he readjusted his tie-dye t-shirt before putting on rubber gloves. The mountain of dishes was not negligible, especially now that they were fairly regularly feeding 4 skeletons, and since Stretch had made the food it was only fair that Papyrus did the dishes. He squeezed soap onto the sponge, getting to work.

His sharp hearing alerted him to Russy quietly creeping into the kitchen, rustling somewhere behind his back, probably leaning onto a counter or even perching on top of it like a big, skeletal gargoyle. He swallowed, trying not to fumble and drop the plate he was holding as he rinsed it.

He did not understand Russy. He had tried to be polite to him, both as a guest and as an important person to Stretch. He had food and drinks ready whenever he was in the house, he always had an extra seat ready at the dinner table in case he wandered in around mealtime, he always asked him if he was comfortable or needed anything. Russy would just calmly nod or shake his head, or give curt answers and then retreat to the sofa or the porch.

Papyrus thought maybe Russy didn’t quite…like him. Of course, the Great Papyrus was very cool and amazing and likeable, but perhaps his greatness was too much for the skeleton to handle??? He couldn’t understand why Russy would be so curt with him otherwise. Never mean, never aggressive or insulting, just….cold. Distant. And it felt like no matter how much effort Papyrus put in the skeleton never really warmed up to him. He still didn’t smile much at him, or talk back when Papyrus tried to, or come anywhere near him really. So as much as it pained him, Papyrus was starting to accept that Russy just wasn’t a fan of him. He still tried, though! After all, he was always a gracious host and friend, even if the other person didn’t consider him a friend back.

The problem began when Russy started doing…this. He’d come into the house, sometimes to see Stretch and sometimes for no apparent reason, and he’d watch Papyrus do things. Not really talking or doing anything, just hanging around, at a distance, observing him, following him in and out of rooms like an invisible cord was connecting them at an exact distance. Sitting on one end of the sofa while Papyrus watched the Mettaton and Napstaton mashup shows or sitting on the porch while Papyrus hung out the laundry to dry, spending an hour here and there and then leaving.

It felt rude to ask what he was doing, after all Papyrus wanted Russy to have the freedom to do as he wished in the house, but the strange companionship made his bones tingle in agitation. Why was Russy always watching him? Was he suspicious of him, trying to make sure Papyrus didn’t misstep around Stretch? Papyrus fumed at the idea. He might not have Stretch’s soulmark, but he was as precious to him as much as Edge was. The idea of not truly cherishing him was unfathomable! Or was this some sort of superiority play? The darker universes had their own harder to navigate rules, as he’d learned from Edge, and constant displays of power or dominance were par for the course. One needed to show others not to harm their loved ones or there would be hell to pay. And Russy had come from a rough world, bore scars of it still-on his bones and on his soul. It wouldn’t be hard to believe he was being protective.

But Russy didn’t really seem like the type for power plays. He always struck Papyrus as the type to make himself scarce if things made him uncomfortable, not to antagonize and fight. And he was pretty sure Russy cared enough about Stretch to want to get along with everyone enough to not make him sad, a sentiment Papyrus shared.

But then why the infernal following?! The distance?! Why couldn’t he just talk to Papyrus while he rambled to the silence, about the weather, his day, his taste in movies, anything at all so he didn’t just sit around quietly and watch him?!?!

Papyrus put away the last of the dishes on the drying rack, taking a deep breath. He took the rubber gloves off and stretched, taking the moment to collect himself before he turned around, reminding himself that Russy was a friend so his smile would be more genuine. His call was right-Russy was sitting on the counter, legs bent to his body and curled into a ball. “WELL, THAT’S THAT! I’M FREE NOW, DO YOU WANT TO DO ANYTHING? WATCH A MOVIE, FEED THE BIRDS, SEE HOW FAR WE CAN THROW A ROCK BEFORE BREAKING SOMETHING?”

Russy shook his head, straightening out after he stood up. “I have to get going. Bye.”

Papyrus took a deep breath. “OF COURSE! HAVE FUN DOING…WHATEVER YOU’RE GOING TO DO!” he said. Russy nodded at him, turning around and turning left, heading to the front door. The door shut behind him before Papyrus could walk him out. With a deep sigh, Papyrus slumped onto the couch. The jitters always left him exhausted after Russy came to visit, especially without Stretch as a buffer. Not as exhausted as when Edge was around and the sniping between the two edgy skeletons began, but still. Papyrus let himself slide to the side, frowning when he felt the pillow under his skull, harder than it should be. He grabbed it and brought it to his face, blushing when he realized it was his ball-shaped owl plushie. He groaned into the soft fleece. He wasn’t as embarrassed for people to know he collected plushies and other toys as he used to be, but he still felt ashamed that he left Mister Hooper out for Russy to see.

He sat back up, dragging the sewing kit closer to himself. The whole reason he had him out for the world to see was because he had a few ripped seams on his side that needed fixing and he forgot about it completely once he got distracted by housework. He dug out a thread of appropriate colour and turned Mister Hooper to the side, checking the seams, then frowned harder as he checked the other side.

Where was the ripped seam? He knew he had it but after a thorough double-check, he couldn’t find it anymore. A very careful inspection showed a small patch, where the rip was supposed to be, with slightly off-shade thread. Did he patch him up and forget?

Papyrus frowned as he put the sewing things in their drawer, then put the plush in his proper place. Odd, but it made him feel better that his plush was in tip-top shape again. By the time he got ready for his sleepover at Undyne’s, he was humming in contentment.

“JAY, PLEASE DON’T PUNCH YOUR BROTHER, YOU’LL GET A TURN WITH THE BALL TOO!!!” Papyrus shouted across the court. Undyne had begged him for help with the gym classes today at the little monster school, which Papyrus couldn’t blame her for. The other gym teacher was sick with the flu and taking care of their sick kid too, so he couldn’t hold his classes-and Undyne got both hers and his to handle. Some she had no issues with, but the one now had both the 1st and 5th grade kids having gym at the same time. Between the 5th graders running off to fight each other with their bullets (causing a prodigious amount of property damage) and the 1st years falling over and getting into arguments, the poor fish monster was frazzled. So she took the older kids and gave Papyrus the younger ones, explaining he got the easier job since he wasn’t a full-time teacher with experience.

Now, Papyrus liked children. They were full of big feelings, good and bad, they were curious and adorably confused, and Papyrus always felt his soul swell when they learned something new or ran around laughing. Today, though, they were not happy. The twins were both crying and punching each other over the only pink basketball there was, little Shelly fell over and hurt her knee and needed healing, and while he was busy tending to her two kids tried to climb the gym mats and almost fell from a height, Papyrus barely catching them with his blue magic in time.

He has been mulling over becoming a teacher one day, but maybe it was worth a more thorough examination since the little tykes were managing to grate on his endless well of patience. And he still had 2 classes to go through!

He went to drag the fighting boys away from each other, getting a stinging kick to the shin while doing it, then sat them down to try and explain, once again, that you couldn’t fistfight to get a thing you wanted. He felt his socket twitch when he felt a tug on his sleeve, praying it was not another emergency, before he put on a wide smile and looked at the little Moldsmal. “YES, GOOBA?”

They wiggled towards the door of the gym, Papyrus straightening up in surprise when he saw Russy standing there, watching the gaggle of children and the mayhem with an impressively blank expression. Papyrus nodded to the little slime. “YES, I SEE HIM. THANK YOU FOR TELLING ME, YOU ARE BEING VERY HELPFUL!!! BE KIND AND TELL EVERYONE THEY CAN PLAY TAG WHILE I TALK TO HIM, ALRIGHT?” he exclaimed, the little Moldsmal wobbling in excitement at his praise. He headed to the other skeleton, noting his body language. He seemed a bit uneasy, but not the kind of wide-eyed terror he’d seen some monsters have when faced with this many kids at once.

Russy met his gaze, then nodded in greeting. Papyrus furrowed his brows despite his smile. Russy had never gone to see him at the school, which planted a seed of worry in his soul. Did something bad happen? An emergency? Papyrus had his phone on him, but he hadn’t had time to check it in hours. “RUSSY! HELLO! I HAVEN’T HAD YOU AS A GUEST YET, WHAT’S UP?”

Russy looked to the side, gaze glancing over the wooden benches and drifting back to Papyrus, stopping somewhere around his right shoulder. “Went to your place but nobody was home. So I asked Stretch and he said you were at the school. So I came here.”

Papyrus blinked, confused. “YES, I’M USUALLY HOME ON WEDNESDAYS BEFORE NOON, BUT UNDYNE HAD A SITUATION AND NEEDED HELP. DID YOU NEED ME FOR ANYTHING?”

Russy shrugged. “Not really. You seem busy.”

Papyrus ran his fingers over his arm, over his soulmark. “IT’S A BIT HECTIC RIGHT NOW. I CAN’T HANG OUT WITH YOU RIGHT AWAY, I HAVE THIS CLASS AND ONE MORE AFTER IT BEFORE I CAN LEAVE,” he explained. Russy nodded calmly. Papyrus let out a sigh of relief. No emergencies at least, then.

Did Russy get worried about Papyrus? Now that he thought of it, he was usually around their house on Wednesdays and they did usually end up hanging out as a general rule-as much as it could be considered hanging out. Still, strange that he didn’t go spend time with Stretch at his job instead of visiting Papyrus. After all, Stretch usually wasn’t too busy at his Asgore’s flower shop and loved his friends and datemates visiting, and Russy always seemed distant to Papyrus. He felt a bit guilty, now that he broke the unspoken arrangement. “WELL, IF YOU LIKE, YOU CAN GO TO OUR PLACE AND RELAX UNTIL I FINISH? OR THE CAFÉ DOWN THE STREET, IT HAS A VERY NICE SELECTION OF PASTRIES! IT’S NOT A HEALTHY HABIT TO EAT SWEETS BUT ONCE IN A WHILE IS FINE!”

Russy looked to the ground, shifting on his feet. “Can I stay in here and wait?”

Papyrus raised his brows. Few people wanted to be in the same room as screaming children more than they absolutely had to. “ER, ALRIGHT? IT’S NOT A PROBLEM. YOU CAN SIT HERE ON THE BENCH, AND IF THE CHILDREN ARE BEING SUICIDAL CAN YOU PLEASE ALERT ME SO I CAN SAVE THEM? THANK YOU!”

Russy nodded, flopping down on the bench next to Shelly. The little monster had stopped crying now, but her knee still hurt too much to run around. At least she seemed happy to have someone sit with her. He nodded at them with a smile, then turned to the kids. “ALRIGHT, ENOUGH LOLLYGAGGING! TIME TO PLAY SOME BASKETBALL!”

Between splitting the kids into groups and the subsequent tantrums over which group they wanted to be in, explaining the task and rules several times, and the ball constantly rolling away and the kids running to get it back, they got maybe 5 minutes of playing out of the whole gym class. But the kids were smiling, the ones that fell over got back up and tried again with his encouragement, and they all congratulated each other on a good game with hugs and badly aimed high-fives, so Papyrus considered it a win. Undyne ushered the kids to their dressing rooms with a sigh of relief, so Papyrus turned to the bench to check on Shelly.

To his surprise, the shy little girl was gesticulating wildly, talking about her new baby sister with an enthusiasm he hadn’t seen from her before. He made a note to ask her about it the next time he had a class with her as he approached the bench.

“CAN YOU WALK TO THE DRESSING ROOM, SHELLY? DO YOU WANT ME TO CARRY YOU?” he asked, crouching down to be closer to her eye (shell?) level. She beamed.

“I can go on my own! Russy says if my mom kisses me it will heal even faster!”

Papyrus snorted out a laugh, surprised. “NYEH-HEH, HE’S RIGHT! LOVE SPEEDS UP HEALING! GET A KISS FROM SOMEONE THAT LOVES YOU AND IT WILL STOP HURTING IN A JIFFY!”

Shelly made a shrill squealing sound. “I will! Bye, Russy! Your secret is safe with me!” she exclaimed, then ran off to the dressing rooms, the knee much less painful apparently. Papyrus looked back to Russy, who was already looking at him with a blank expression. He couldn’t resist his smile getting just a bit smug.

“MADE A NEW FRIEND, I SEE,” he said, sitting on the bench to stretch his legs. No point in risking his joints locking up.

“…She looked lonely, since all her friends were playing and she had to sit out,” Russy mumbled. Papyrus huffed out a laugh, his ribcage filling up with the warm fuzzies. Stretch did always say Russy was a gentle soul. It was sweet, seeing the quiet, drawn back skeleton try and make a kid feel better.

“IT WAS KIND OF YOU TO KEEP HER COMPANY. THANK YOU FOR YOUR HELP, RUSSY!” Papyrus said, pausing the stretches to beam at Russy. The other skeleton didn’t really react, just looked to the side and nodded disinterestedly, so Papyrus sighed and went back to the stretches. Russy helped and that meant something, even if he still didn’t like Papyrus.

Papyrus touched his toes, grimacing as his knees strained. He’d been a bit cold to Russy, since the other skeleton seemed to keep his distance and dislike him, but he was polite enough, helpful, sweet to kids, and important to Stretch. He decided he’d treat Russy better from now on-more like the family he is. It stung that he didn’t know why Russy disliked him or how to fix it, but the other skeleton wasn’t obligated to like him, after all. Papyrus would just have to learn how to be nice to him and not expect adoration back.

Papyrus straightened back up, leaning back to stretch his spine. “WELL, AS THANKS FOR HELPING OUT, WOULD YOU LIKE ME TO MAKE SOMETHING TO EAT WHEN WE GET BACK? YOU CAN PICK ANYTHING, AS LONG AS I KNOW HOW TO MAKE IT!”

Russy stayed quiet for a while, Papyrus relaxing to wait him out. He could hear the next class of kids shuffling into the locker rooms, a few singing a song he’d heard on the radio recently, before he realized he wasn’t sure what the plan for their class was today. He would have to ask Undyne.

After a while, Russy finally did speak. “Can you make gingerbread?”

Papyrus smiled. “OF COURSE! MY BROTHER RECENTLY GOT ME DINOSAUR SHAPED COOKIE MOLDS, SO GINGERSAURS IT IS!”

He wasn’t sure what he expected when Russy had been hanging closer to him all day, his magic on edge from the proximity, but he knew it wasn’t Russy holding out a small box in his hands, wrapped meticulously in orange wrapping paper. “WHAT’S THIS?”

Russy nudged the box in Papyrus’ direction, holding it out for him. Papyrus held out his own hands on reflex as Russy dropped the box into them. His sockets widened.

“…It’s for you,” Russy said, staring at him. Papyrus looked down at the gift, confused.

“FOR ME? IT’S NOT GYFTMAS YET, RUSSY! OR MY BIRTHDAY! DID YOU CHECK THE CALENDAR???” Papyrus exclaimed, turning the present over. It was light, but it rattled slightly. Curiosity bubbled in his soul. A gift…for him? From Russy??

Russy fiddled with the edge of his sleeve, looking somewhere around Papyrus’ shoulder. “Yeah. We’ve been hanging out a lot lately, and you’re really nice to me, so I figured I should give you something? Edge said you like fidget toys so I tried making something.”

Papyrus looked at Russy, then down to the box before he started carefully unwrapping it, trying not to damage the paper. “I-REALLY, YOU SHOULDN’T HAVE! I DON’T HAVE A GIFT PREPARED FOR YOU, AND I DON’T NEED ANY THANKS FOR BEING POLITE-OH!” he exclaimed as he popped open the lid, an eyesore of colours mashed in one space. He pulled out the object then put the box aside so he could run both hands over it, letting out a gentle gasp.

Russy said it was a fidget toy and Papyrus could see why. It was a single bracelet that could easily wrap around his wrist twice, made of an assortment of beads-plastic, wood, small pom-poms, metal. Every wooden bead had a different carving in it, and the plastic ones were all textured differently, and all of them were coloured vibrant shades of orange, yellow, pink, a few red and black pieces as well. Papyrus ran his fingers over it, shivering lightly at all the different textures under his fingertips, the bright colours. He huffed in excitement, unable to keep his hands off of it. He could already tell he’d be touching the bracelet every second he wasn’t doing something, a welcome break from cracking his finger joints until they hurt or fraying his shirts even more.

“RUSSY, THIS IS…THIS IS REALLY WONDERFUL. THANK YOU,” Papyrus said, feeling just a bit choked up. He was a grown adult skeleton and he wasn’t going to cry over a gift, but he also couldn’t hide his expression by hugging him. He only made the mistake of trying to hug Russy once before he learned better. “IT’S SO WELL MADE AND I LOVE IT! I DON’T UNDERSTAND WHY YOU WENT THROUGH ALL THIS EFFORT FOR ME, BUT I APPRECIATE IT SO MUCH!”

Russy shrugged, the slightest tint of colour climbing up his neck. “It’s not that difficult to do, I could teach you how to do it if you want to? Is it really that surprising I made it?”

Papyrus unclasped the bracelet, winding it around his wrist. “A BIT, I SUPPOSE. I KNOW I MAKE YOU UNCOMFORTABLE, SO IT’S VERY SWEET THAT YOU’RE GIVING ME GIFTS ANYWAYS,” he explained, frowning as he tried to clasp it with one hand, the tiny clasp needing several tries before he got it right. His brother, loathe as he was to admit it, might be right. It might be time for a trip to the optometrist.

Russy was silent for a while as Papyrus tried to work the bracelet on. “…What?” he finally asked, voice incredulous. Papyrus looked up, pausing his fiddling. Russy was frowning at him, brows furrowed in confusion. It was about as much emotion as the skeleton seemed to be able to show.

“WHAT WHAT?” Papyrus asked.

“You don’t make me uncomfortable? You’re a really relaxing guy to be around,” Russy said, shoulders rising and his head ducking down. “I thought you knew that?”

Papyrus blinked. “WELL-YOU ALWAYS STAY FAR AWAY FROM ME AND STARE AT ME, SO I THOUGHT I MADE YOU UNCOMFORTABLE? OR THAT YOU DON’T WANT TO BE TOO CLOSE TO ME? I’M NOT OFFENDED OR ANYTHING, IF YOU’RE UNCOMFORTABLE THAT’S PERFECTLY ALRIGHT! I JUST-IS THERE ANYTHING I CAN DO TO MAKE YOU FEEL BETTER? WHAT-“ Papyrus inhaled sharply, cutting himself off. He wouldn’t ask him what he was doing wrong, not with the way his voice felt close to breaking. It hurt more than he expected to admit to himself that he was upset, but it wasn’t fair to unload that onto the other skeleton.

Russy shuffled backwards, back closer to the living room wall. “I’m not…uncomfortable. You never make it weird or touch me or complain that I’m too quiet. It’s nice. Feels like I can relax. It’s fun for me to listen to you and I like keeping you company. I didn’t realize you didn’t like it.”

Papyrus frowned in thought, looking at the bracelet. Their hangouts did stress him out, but not because he didn’t like Russy. It was because he thought Russy disliked him and didn’t want to be around him. But if he was happy, wasn’t it…fine? Maybe it really was fun for him to sit around watching him, and he thought it was the best way to keep him company? He recalled a childhood memory-sitting next to Sans while he took apart little household appliances, watching with rapt attention how he tried to put the toaster back together before an adult saw him and he got in trouble. It was weirdly fun, watching. Once he got older sitting in one place got too difficult, but maybe it was the same for Russy nowadays. Sitting next to Papyrus, quiet so he wouldn’t break his focus. A silent companion.

“I SEE. I DIDN’T-HEY, WHERE ARE YOU GOING???” Papyrus exclaimed, going after Russy as he turned to exit the room. The other skeleton froze, hand that was reaching for the doorknob falling down. “I WANT TO BE FRIENDS WITH YOU!”

Russy turned around, looking at Papyrus with an incredulous expression. “Really?”

“YES! WE JUST HAVE VERY DIFFERENT WAYS OF TREATING FRIENDS, SO I MUST HAVE MISSED WHAT YOU WERE TRYING TO SAY. BUT THAT’S OKAY! WE CAN WORK IT OUT AND HANG OUT MORE!” Papyrus said, tracing the mark on his arm. His face felt warm. “IF...IF THAT’S ALRIGHT WITH YOU? YOU CAN SHOW ME HOW YOU MAKE THE BRACELETS, AND I CAN TEACH YOU TO BAKE IF YOU LIKE, SO-”

“Alright.”

Papyrus paused, voice caught in his throat. He coughed, looking to the side. “ER. RIGHT. EXCELLENT! SO…WHAT DO YOU WANT TO DO?”

Russy looked at Papyrus, blinking slowly, then looked to the side. Just a bit of colour was visible on his neck. Maybe Papyrus could learn how to read him too, one day. “…Maybe…I can help you make dinner? If you need help. I don’t know how to cook but maybe I can help…stir things or something.”

Papyrus beamed, running his fingers over the bracelet. “I THINK I’D LIKE THAT. THANK YOU, RUSSY.”


	6. Day 11: Cautious, Cemetary (UF&HT)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I never wrote Horrortale before, so have a weird au that's kind of Witcher inspired but not really and has both UF and HT, so it's DARK. Tread lightly.
> 
> TW: death, death of a child, murder investigation and forensics, child abuse, mentions of starvation, cannibalism. Please let me know if I missed any.

Edge’s face scrunched up at the stench of old food wafting through the tavern as soon as he opened the creaky door. Inside were the usual expected drunkards, the kind that wasted their work hours at the bottoms of their tankards, as well as one traveler, obviously not from around judging by her clothing. Both she and the tavern keeper glanced idly at him, then stared much more intensely as they took in his appearance. He knew how he looked to humans-between his skeletal appearance and full hunter regalia, he was a striking sight to near everyone.

He let the door close behind him as he strode confidently towards the tavern keeper, evading the broken glass, piles of trash on the floor and tables with all the casual grace of a street cat. He didn’t bother grabbing a seat, just leveled his firm glare at the keeper, and once she answered it with a defiant frown, asked: “I’VE BEEN TOLD YOU PEOPLE NEED A HUNTER. WHO DO I TALK TO ABOUT IT?”

The keeper sniffed. “Mighty strange, a monster bein’ a monster hunter. Since when does your kind kill their own?”

“SINCE IT STARTED PAYING WELL,” he snipped back. “NOW, WILL YOU CONTINUE WASTING BOTH OUR TIMES JUDGING ME, OR WILL YOU POINT ME TO WHOEVER IS IN CHARGE OF THIS SHITHOLE?”

The lady frowned harder, then spit at his feet, narrowly missing his boot. “We don’t want your kind ‘round these parts. What, you’ll slay the monster? Won’t help it kill us all? And we’re supposed to believe you?! Bring us a human hunter!!!”

“YOU CAN WAIT ANOTHER FEW YEARS FOR A HUMAN HUNTER TO NOTICE YOUR BACKWATER VILLAGE PUT UP A MEAGER PRIZE FOR HELP, OR YOU CAN ACCEPT ME, YOU HAG,” he hissed out. “AND FRANKLY, I DON’T THINK THE CHOICE IS UP TO YOU, SO EITHER TELL ME WHERE TO GO OR I’LL WANDER AROUND THE VILLAGE UNTIL SOMEONE ELSE TELLS ME.”

The traveler kept her head down while the tavern keeper glared at him. But unexpected help came from an unexpected source: the drunk he had passed harrumphed and leaned up on one elbow.

“Y’want old man Sam, ye do,” he said, his words slurring into nigh gibberish. “He’s the one sending for help, as if anyone will come to this shithole. Except you, seems like. You’ve gotta be a broke fucking skeleton!”

Edge turned sideways to better see the man, not trusting the tavern keeper with his back. “WHERE CAN I FIND HIM?”

The man pointed with his tankard to his left, the swinging of his arm and body ending up pointing to near half the village. “Go d’wn the road, then left, and the house tree with the apples is-” he hiccupped, shaking his head. “I don’t feel so good. Where’s the bucket?”

Edge grimaced and decided to beat a hasty retreat, nodding to the man in thanks just as the tavern lady hurried to his side with a well-used bucket. He sounds of vomiting started just before the door closed behind him, making him shiver in disgust. There’s a reason he never picked up drinking, unlike many other hunters. How people did this to themselves, he’ll never know.

He turned down the road, obeying what directions the town drunk managed to give him-road, left, house, apples. They proved surprisingly accurate- just a little after the left turn, he got to a house with two apple trees planted in front, the fruit still small, green and undeveloped. The man standing in the yard watched him approach solemnly, waiting for Edge to stop in front of him before giving him a nod. “You’re a hunter, yes? You have the looks of it, with that sword of yours.”

Edge didn’t glance at his sword, even as he felt it grow heavier on him. When he first got a hunting sword, he scoffed and ignored it, figuring any fight he got into would be solved by his magic. A month later when his magic ran dry in the middle of a fight with a veritable sea of cave spiders, he’d learned better. Only his sword and the fire he managed to strike kept him alive. He’d taken painstaking care of his sword ever since, the handle that showed the hunter insignia of a wolf shining brightly. “I AM. ARE YOU SAM?”

“One and only. I sent that letter to ask for help, even if some ‘a the villagers were afraid of a hunter coming to see us. It’s bad luck for a town, they say.”

Edge huffed in amusement. “MAYBE. IT’S ALSO BAD LUCK TO NOT HAVE A HUNTER WHEN YOU NEED ONE.”

Sam nodded, then slowly moved away from the fence to open the gate, his limp prolonging the action. At his nod, Edge invited himself in. “I know the reward isn’t much. Windermere was never a rich town, and with the monster in the woods we can’t even get game anymore.”

Edge nodded. “START FROM THE BEGINNING. WHAT HAPPENED, AND WHEN?”

“Started almost a decade ago,” the man said, pulling out a small stool to sit on next to a rickety old table. There was no other chair, but there was a large log for chopping wood which Edge took a seat on. “People went hunting in the woods, or searched for mushrooms and the like. But they started disappearing. When we sent people searching for them, they found bones, broken and gnawed on. Something ate them.”

“AND YOU REALIZED IT WAS THE DOING OF A MONSTER?” Edge asked, leaning forward. The man frowned at his feet.

“Thought it was wolves at first. We never had them this far south, but stranger things have happened. But the tooth marks-they didn’t look like wolf bites. They looked too blunt, wrong size too. And then some of the bodies showed up hanging from trees. No wolf can do that.”

Edge frowned. Eating humans wasn’t unheard of for monsters that strayed from their paths, and usually such monsters were disturbed, corrupted. Too far gone to be reasoned with. He let out a sigh of acceptance: he doubted he’d be able to fix this with talking. “HOW LONG DID THIS GO ON? HOW MANY DIED?”

“Almost 8 years. We knew not to send anyone into the woods alone, but the thing was clever. It waited until we forgot about it, stopped being cautious, then started killing again. We lost about 30 people this way. Some may have died to accidents and were scavenged, but most were clearly murdered. Then 2 years ago, it stopped.”

Edge leaned back. “THEN WHY DID YOU ASK FOR A HUNTER NOW?”

Sam rubbed his hands together. “We thought maybe the creature died, since it stopped killing. That we were free. That we could have the forest again,” he said quietly. “A girl went missing a month ago. Young thing, she was only 7. We looked for her but still haven’t found her body.”

Edge winced. “YOU HAVE MY SYMPATHIES.”

The man waved him off. “I want to know this monster won’t kill people anymore. Her family wants her body to give her a proper burial. We just want this over and done with,” he said, leveling his gaze at Edge. “Are you willing to take this job on?”

Edge hummed, crossing his arms. “I GET MY PAY IN FULL, GOLD ONLY, AFTER THE JOB IS DONE. FREE LODGING AND FOOD UNTIL I FINISH THE JOB. AND NOBODY TRIES TO STAB ME IN MY SLEEP.”

The man-who had been stone faced the entire time cracked a smile, slow like molasses. “Aye, that can be arranged.” He stuck his hand out, so Edge took it to seal the deal. “Thank you for your help, hunter.”

“PLEASE, YOU CAN CALL ME EDGE.”

One of the few lessons in hunting Edge didn’t arrogantly ignore in his youth was the importance of preparation. He kept his blades sharp, his armor meticulously maintained, his own body rested but trained. He scoured the woods surrounding the village, taking some of the local people with him for the safety of numbers, examined the objects and remains left behind by the victims that the villagers managed to retrieve. Sam was right, it _was_ a monster that killed them, even if he couldn’t tell what kind from his investigation. After talking to some more people and getting some more information (the bodies were usually found amongst the trees to the west but the missing girl’s body wasn’t there, they found some remains of deer and rabbits strewn about looking gnawed on and as if they were worked over with tools) he got his sword ready, his supplies gathered, and set off towards the woods.

The forest was quiet, but not unnaturally quiet. A good sign that the monster didn’t have such vast and corrupt magic that the animals would be repelled. His goal was straightforward: to find the remains of the monster’s last meal, from it track them down to wherever they lived, slay them, recover the girl’s remains and then receive his pay to send back home to his city. His brother wrote in his last letter that the street urchins were hungry with the army crawling all over and punishing them severely for begging and stealing, and they needed fattening up before winter starved them. Red could only make so much money with his poor health: and Edge, as a monster, never got the good jobs humans did as a hunter. Better make this quick to get more work soon.

His calculations on how to make cash were interrupted by a splash of blood on a nearby rock, not too old. It didn’t take too long to find another, larger one, with a mesh of footprints around it. He bent down to examine them. The blood was dry but still sticky on his fingers, and the footprints were much larger than his but not too different than his own bare feet. A skeleton perhaps? But skeletons didn’t typically grow too large, so not a sure thing. He managed to track some more, going towards the woods, then leading to a stream with fur clinging to nearby rocks. Their latest prey was likely a rabbit or some other small creature and they must have skinned it here. They went through the stream for a while, and it took Edge a few tries going up and down to spot some flattened grass, indicating a large being stepping on it recently.

The trail was harder to follow after that, but not impossible. A snapped branch here, a jostled rock there, and eventually the grass was tread down enough to indicate he’d reached a path the monster took often. Along the path were a few holes slowly getting filled up with bones, as well as some patches of disturbed earth where most likely there were remains buried. Edge listened carefully, his magic at the ready. He was close. The ground was worn, there were remains and tools laid out in an organized fashion-much more worrying than if everything was mindlessly strewn about. His target was coherent enough to organize their belongings. Not lost to bloodlust completely, but still intelligent. He lightened his steps even more and moved away from the paths and into the woods, away from plain view.

He followed a small path to a clearing empty of trees, a small pile of sharpened spits set down under a nearby oak tree, but there the trail stopped. He changed directions, trying to see if any paths led away, and apart from one that seemed well-worn all seemed to lead to the spot he just left, not further away. The well-worn path, already suspiciously obvious, also lacked the overturned earth and blood the other ones had, making Edge suspect it as a decoy. He went back to the clearing, checked for any caves, hollow trees or other nooks and crannies a monster could sleep in and came up empty. He huffed in annoyance. So be it. If he couldn’t find them, he could wait them out. They’d have to come out to eat eventually.

With some quiet searching he found a tall tree, its foliage thick, and climbed into the branches to settle down and wait. Quietly he ate his own meal-some modest bread and cheese, able to keep for a little while but still able to sate him-then leaned back and looked at the clearing through the leaves. His watch began.

He’d been in the tree for over half the day-so long that the day turned to night and the sun was starting to lighten the sky again-before he spotted movement in the clearing. It seemed to him as if the meadow was moving at a creature underneath, like a blanket covering a kitten, before suddenly the grassy surface disappeared, revealing an elaborate wooden door opening horizontally into the ground as it slowly creaked open. A powerful illusion, used to disguise the entrance to his target’s home. Edge leaned forward, observing. The door stayed open for a little while, no movement forthcoming, but slowly he saw bones move, the pale sunlight catching off of them in a way he couldn’t mistake for anything else.

His sockets widened when the bones, which for a moment he assumed were more remains, didn’t rise out of the hole in a pile, but instead straightened out of the hovel until there was an unfathomably large skeleton standing in the clearing, holding a bag under one arm and wooden logs under the other. He watched as the skeleton passed a shrub he himself had earlier-while it had reached the bottom of his ribcage, it didn’t reach the monster’s pelvis, even in their very hunched over state. They were so much larger than he knew a skeleton could be.

He squinted in the bad lighting, trying and failing to see if they carried weapons around their waist. He did, however, see the bones peeking out of their bag as they carried it to the holes they had dug. He watched them deposit a few bones into it, then pull out slabs of fresh meat as they sat down and proceed to clean them of skin and unnecessary bits. They worked fast, and by the time the sun was starting to properly peek out they had cleaned up all their meat and took it back to the clearing, where another illusion fell to reveal a small drying rack, waiting for the pieces they hung on it.

The illusion snapped back in place as soon as they moved away, and as they slowly lumbered back into their hole so did the one obscuring it, hazing at first like the air above a stone path during summer, before hiding the closed door and showing only an empty meadow.

Edge narrowed his sockets, gathering his things to himself. The monster was organized, calm and collected. Not mindless at all. He took his time climbing down the tree, as quiet as a shadow, and waited a while longer before he made his way to the bone holes. He turned the newly replenished piles over, pulling out the occasional bone he couldn’t identify to compare to his own. There were deer bones, rabbit bones, many other types-but no human bones. Edge threw them back in, cleaning up the macabre work station after himself. He may have been raised on the streets, but he still learned basic manners.

There was a decision to be made here. Edge could unsheathe his sword, summon his magic, blow a hole into the ground and brute force his way into the monster’s house and slay them where they stood. Quicker and easier pay than anything else, and even if the other monster was strong, he had enough tricks up his sleeve that he was sure he’d get a good shot in. One shot was all it took, after all. It would hardly be the first time he killed. But it would be the first time he did it to make things easier for himself.

He breathed in deep, the smell of rust mixing with the dirt. He let it out slowly, gritting his teeth at the memory of the little cat monster that snoozed near their house, their jacket tattered. Winter would come soon, harsh and biting, and her parents either weren’t around or couldn’t buy her a warmer one.

With a curse he let his hand fall off of the pommel of his sword, then stalked towards the clearing. He remembered exactly where the door to their hovel was, but he hesitated for a moment. His magic was ready to react to an attack, but he wouldn’t strike first. He couldn’t blame a monster for starving and feeding themselves in the past, murderer or not. He just had to know if they had to be stopped. If this child was hurt by their hands, and if others would be too.

Finally, he knocked on the grass, the illusion making it sound as if he was tapping ground, but he felt the wood underneath his knuckles. Impressive, to make an illusion that could fool more than one sense, but nobody could make one that fooled all five.

It was impossible to hear anything from the inside, but he could feel the faint vibrations of a large creature moving underneath the ground. With a frown, he knocked harder, in the rhythm of an old song he heard growing up on the streets, then took a few steps back, his posture relaxed and his hands in front of him.

He wasn’t sure if the monster would be either so stupid or so suicidal they would exit their hole just because someone knocked, but to his surprise the door open slightly-to a bone attack, of course, but still.

Edge dodged sideways, having to go into a roll to evade the slew of bones that followed. He jumped back to his feet into a crouch, ready to evade the next attack. To his surprise, none followed. Instead, the huge skeleton was looking at him, halfway out of their hidey-hole.

“GOSH, IT’S NOT OFTEN I GET VISITORS POLITE ENOUGH TO KNOCK,” they exclaimed, their voice startlingly loud and raspy.

Edge didn’t move an inch. “I WASN’T RAISED IN A BARN. I EVEN KNOW HOW TO WALTZ.”

The other skeleton blinked at him slowly, and it took them a few moments before their sockets widened and they laughed. The sound was pleasant enough, though the way their mouth moved into a smile around their large, misshapen teeth stained with blood made Edge shiver. He straightened up slowly, raising his hands to the side in a _see, I’m unarmed_ sort of way. The skeleton didn’t watch him any less attentively for it.

“WELL THEN, SIR NOT-RAISED-IN-A-BARN, WHAT DOES YOUR LORDLYNESS WANT FROM A SKELETON LIKE ME?” they asked, tilting their skull. Their eye lights weren’t sharp points like Edge’s were, but a more diffuse rust colour that made his sockets glow. Something about their familiar magic made him think they were a man and a skeleton not unlike him, not some strange new type of monster. How they ended up with such an unorthodox size and appearance, then, he wasn’t sure. Edge nodded into a very quick bow, keeping his eyes on him.

“I’M A MONSTER HUNTER. I WAS HIRED BY THE PEOPLE IN THE NEARBY VILLAGE TO SLAY THE MONSTER KILLING THEIR PEOPLE. BUT I HAVE MY SUSPICIONS ABOUT WHAT HAPPENED, AND WOULD LIKE TO HAVE SOME ANSWERS,” he stated. The other skeleton chuckled.

“I HAVEN’T GOTTEN ANYONE ASKING FOR MY SIDE OF THE STORY BEFORE. THIS IS PRETTY NOVEL, SIR HUNTER! MAKES ME FEEL SPECIAL,” he said, beaming. Edge blinked in confusion before getting his bearings again.

“…RIGHT. WELL, ABOUT THE CHILD-”

“HOW ABOUT WE SIT SOMEWHERE MORE COMFORTABLE?” the other skeleton exclaimed, cutting him off. Edge took a step back, hackles rising as the other skeleton extracted himself fully, slow and solid like a falling tree. Edge had judged the skeleton right, he was much larger than him, even with his misshapen bones and bent posture.

They lumbered towards a nearby tree trunk, stopping to wait for Edge to move with a quirk of their eyebrow. Edge walked beside them-a good distance away, turned so he could see the skeleton-and the other monster did the same. The slow, tense shuffle ended when the skeleton plopped down, the wood creaking under their weight. Edge sat on a nearby rock, outside of arm’s reach, and grimaced at the knowledge that his pants would be horribly muddied when he got up.

“HUNGRY?” the other skeleton inquired. Edge barely kept himself from making a face.

“I’LL MANAGE,” he answered.

“ARE YOU SURE? IT’S IMPORTANT TO KEEP YOUR STRENGTH UP, HUNTER. CAN’T IMAGINE YOU CAN KILL MONSTERS VERY EASILY IF YOUR MAGIC IS TOO WEAK.”

Edge frowned at the other monster. They seemed more interested in picking out a piece of wood Edge hadn’t noticed before than they were in a monster hunter sitting a few steps away. “I TRY NOT TO KILL IF I DON’T HAVE TO.”

The other monster glanced at his face, his gaze calculating. Then he looked back down at his wood, taking out a small carving knife and starting to whittle it down. “I BELIEVE YOU. I HAVE A FEELING WE’RE ALIKE, SIR HUNTER. MONSTERS LIKE US DON’T ALWAYS GET THE LUXURY OF KEEPING OUR HANDS CLEAN TO SURVIVE.”

Edge leaned forward, elbows digging into his knees. “NOT SO ALIKE. I HAVEN’T KILLED A CHILD BEFORE, FOR A START.”

“WHAT A COINCIDENCE!” the skeleton exclaimed. “NEITHER DID I!”

Edge focused on the small piece of wood, trying to discern what it would become. So far, it was just very angular. “THE PEOPLE FROM THE NEARBY VILLAGE LOST A CHILD IN THE WOODS. THEY’RE ASSUMING IT WAS WHOEVER KILLED AND ATE ALL THOSE PEOPLE IN THE PAST.”

The other skeleton huffed in amusement. Edge didn’t miss the way their brows furrowed. “NOT CORRECT, I’M AFRAID. THE PERSON WHO KILLED THEM HAS BEEN DEAD FOR TWO YEARS NOW. AS CONVENIENT AS IT IS TO BLAME EVERY LITTLE THING ON THE SCARY MONSTER IN THE WOODS, I’M AFRAID THEY LOST THEIR CHILD ALL ON THEIR OWN.”

“ANY PROOF OF YOUR CLAIM?” Edge inquired. The other skeleton’s hands stilled for a moment, his face crumpling into a lost frown. Edge was struck with the sudden urge to look away, to give them some space, but he knew better than to put his guard down in front of a potential enemy.

The other skeleton reached for his throat, Edge’s hand twitching towards his sword imperceptibly, but all that happened was that he stuck a hand down his ragged shirt and pulled out a small glass vial, tied with twine into a necklace. He took a slow, even breath, staring at the contents inside, before raising it towards Edge, finally meeting his gaze.

“MY BROTHER. HE WAS THE ONE WHO DECIDED WE SHOULD EAT HUMANS. AFTER HE-WELL. AFTER. I DECIDED AGAINST KILLING ANY MORE. I’M MANAGING WITH RABBITS AND DEER FOR NOW, THOUGH I DON’T KNOW FOR HOW LONG.”

Edge squinted at the vial. It wasn’t what was in it that caught his attention at first, but the grey cap made of clay on top, carved with stars. That’s what allowed him to identify it as a funeral jar, and only with that knowledge did he realize there was dust inside. The memory of his own brother, coughing up dust on the straw filled mattress they shared before they could afford separate beds, came unbidden to his mind. He remembered practicing carving the stars into clay while waiting for him to wake up, just in case. “I’M SORRY FOR YOUR LOSS. TRULY.”

A smile tugged at the other skeleton’s mouth, his stained teeth making it a mix of unnerving and melancholic. “THANK YOU. I DOUBT ANYONE BUT ME WOULD CONSIDER IT A LOSs, BUT HE WAS A GOOD BROTHER TO ME, AND A KIND SOUL. IT’S…NOT EASY, FEEDING A CHILD IN THE MIDDLE OF WOODS. ESPECIALLY WHEN YOU NEED MEAT TO SURVIVE.”

Edge hummed. “AND I ASSUME THE VILLAGERS WOULD NOT WELCOME YOU WITH OPEN ARMS, NOW OR BACK THEN,” he asked. The other skeleton laughed, a strangely delighted sound.

“HEAVENS, NO! MY BROTHER ALWAYS SAID HE DIDN’T KNOW HOW HE GOT OUT ALIVE! IT WAS VERY SCENIC, PITCHFORKS AND EVERYTHING. HUMANS SURE KNOW HOW TO TREAT A MONSTER RIGHT,” he said. Edge stayed quiet, hoping the silence would make the other skeleton continue to share. Luckily, he seemed to continue on without need for prompting. “THERE USED TO BE MORE WILD GAME IN THE WOODS, BUT AS THE VILLAGE GREW THEY HUNTED THEM DOWN AND, WELL. THEY CAN GROW CROPS AND EAT THEM AT LEAST, BUT WE NEEDED THE MEAT. SO WHEN THEY GOT TOO CLOSE TO OUR TERRITORY MY BROTHER HAD TO TAKE THEM OUT, AND IT SEEMED A WASTE TO JUST LET THEM ROT AWAY.”

Edge leaned back, frowning in disapproval. “AM I SUPPOSED TO FIND THAT UNDERSTANDABLE? HE STILL MURDERED PEOPLE. PEOPLE THAT DID NOT ATTACK YOU FIRST AND WERE TRYING TO FEED THEIR OWN FAMILIES,” he said, crossing his arms. “YOU’RE NOT THE ONLY ONES HUNGRY IN THESE PARTS.”

The other skeleton chuckled, sounding genuinely amused. “I NEVER SAID WE WERE, SIR HUNTER. BUT I WON’T APOLOGIZE FOR US SURVIVING. AND ONCE MY BROTHER FELL DOWN, I DECIDED I’D SURVIVE WITHOUT KILLING, HOWEVER IT GOES. SO YES, WE WERE RESPONSIBLE FOR THEIR DEATHS, BUT I DID NOT KILL ANYONE, ESPECIALLY NOT YOUR MISSING AND I DON’T PLAN TO ROLL OVER AND LET YOU KILL ME FOR YOUR COIN AND THEIR REVENGE. EVEN IF YOU NEED TO EAT TOO.”

Edge sighed, hanging his head down as he did. He was never as good at sussing out liars like his brother was, but the other skeleton seemed genuine. “I DIDN’T EXPECT YOU TO,” he answered.

The other skeleton went back to whittling, pointedly looking at the wood. “THEN WHAT _DO_ YOU WANT? BECAUSE IT LOOKS TO ME YOU’LL HAVE TO KILL ME TO GET YOUR GOLD.”

Edge tapped his chin, looking at his muddied boots. “PERHAPS NOT. IF I CAN BRING THE BODY OF THE CHILD BACK TO THE VILLAGE, CONVINCE THEM NOBODY KILLED HER, I CAN NEGOTIATE MY PAY,” he explained, getting up. He stayed still while upright for a few seconds, signaling he wasn’t getting up to attack. “I THANK YOU FOR YOUR TIME AND ANSWERS. TRY TO AVOID THE VILLAGERS FOR NOW, I CAN’T GUARANTEE YOUR SAFETY.”

With a nod as a goodbye, Edge shimmied sideways towards the forest, keeping the other monster in his peripheral vision. It was only years of practice that stayed his hand when he saw the skeleton get up, shuffling closer. He turned to face him fully, sockets narrowing in question.

The other skeleton looked at him with a searching expression, skull tilted. It was strange to see such a childlike gesture on such a beast of a monster. “YOU’RE HELPING ME. WHY ARE YOU HELPING ME?”

Edge raised his brow. “BECAUSE I DON’T HALF-ASS MY JOBS. EITHER THE CHILD DIED NATURALLY AND YOU HAVE NO REASON TO DIE FOR HER, OR SOMEONE ELSE KILLED HER AND I WILL ROUT THEM OUT. NOTHING MORE, NOTHING LESS.”

The other skeleton, after a few moments, stretched his mouth into a smile. This one, for the first time, touched his sockets. That small detail was enough to make it a lot less intimidating. “YOU’RE A NICE MAN, SIR HUNTER. WHAT’S YOUR NAME?”

Edge blinked, before hurriedly bowing his head, gaze holding the other monster’s. “I DIDN’T INTRODUCE MYSELF, FORGIVE ME. I GO BY EDGE THESE DAYS.”

The other skeleton dipped into an awkward bow, their crooked spine seemingly not allowing them to bend over properly. “MY NAME IS PAPYRUS. THANK YOU FOR WORRYING ABOUT SOMEONE LIKE ME.”

Edge gazed at him for a few moments. A strange idea played in his mind-perhaps, he could invite the skeleton along with him, quietly, towards his city. There was more food there than in this forest picked clean, and there were other monsters around. Certainly more people to talk to than in the empty forest.

Quickly he shook the idea off. He knew how people treated monsters that looked like him and his brother. This skeleton would starve before anyone would dare to offer him a job, and they couldn’t afford more charity. With a wistful quirk of his mouth he nodded again, then turned fully away and walked into the trees. He couldn’t hear any movement from the other skeleton, feeling the other’s gaze on the back of his neck. It took him several minutes before he felt alone again, only the sounds of the forest and his own clothes and equipment swishing and clanking along with his steps.

He frowned the entire time he traced his steps back, reaching a small stream but this time heading north. He still had a child to find. He wouldn’t rest until he had answers.

2 days into his hunt, he returned to the village, a previously empty flour sack slung over his shoulder. In the back of his mind he knew he must be starving, exhausted, that his feet must be sore. The only thing he could actually feel, though, was the pain in his clenched jaw and the anger simmering in his soul. One of the village children saw him approach while picking apples and pointed him out, and after a quick word from his mother ran off to find the village elder. He could hear the villagers start chattering as he approached, excitement building at his arrival. Good. Let there be witnesses.

It felt like ages as he was herded to the village square, but he imagined it was less than 10 minutes before he settled the bag down in the clearing and Sam arrived with the boy in tow, using a walking stick to hobble over. The faces of the people seemed excited, in a way he’d seen dogs be when you threw a live rabbit to them. Blood in the waters. He wondered if they even knew monsters don’t leave bodies behind after death and were expecting the other skeleton’s bones in his sack. Sam approached, face as stiff as it always was. He gestured with a cane, shooing the villagers away.

“No need for all you fools to crowd around, go do your work. Don’t gawk like a calf at a painted door!” he yelled, voice barely raised but authoritative. Edge settled the sack in its proper position, readying his hand knife. He met Sam’s gaze.

“BEFORE WE BEGIN. WHO ARE THE CHILD’S PARENTS AND FAMILY?” he inquired. Sam frowned at him for a moment, before calling out an old man, mean-looking and holding a knobby old branch. He gestured to him, guiding him forwards with a hand on his back.

“Gilbert. Her grandfather. Her parents died when she was a child from the flux, he was the one to raise her. She has no other family, apart from cousins twice removed,” Sam explained. Edge narrowed his sockets at the old man, clenching his jaw.

“I ASK THAT HE STAYS, AS FAMILY. I WOULD PREFER THE OTHERS TO LEAVE, OUT OF RESPECT TO THE GIRL’S REMAINS.”

The chatter of the crowd grew wilder, and he heard a few women wail in anguish and a few of the men take their hats off to make a quick prayer. Some must have still hoped she’d survived somehow, as unlikely as it was. Edge couldn’t say he was any different, hoping against hope until the very moment he found her body, covered in leaves.

Sam took control, waving the crowd off as well as he could. Some reluctantly drew back and went to their fields, but there were still people standing there, too curious to leave. So be it. Edge ignored the stragglers and bent down, cutting open the sack down the middle. The stragglers gasped at the sight of the child’s decayed remains, partly scattered by animals, but they must have recognized her clothes as he heard the women mutter so. He looked at the girl’s grandfather, watching his reaction. He didn’t seem surprised. Upset. There was only a grim understanding and a hint of anger in his expression, simmering in his grey eyes.

Edge stood back up, putting his blade away. “I BELIEVE THIS IS YOUR MISSING GIRL. SHE HAS BEEN DEAD FOR MOST OF THE TIME SHE WAS MISSING. I FOUND HER BODY NORTH OF THE STREAM, BETWEEN TWO LARGE ROCKS AND COVERED IN LEAVES.”

Sam nodded solemnly, frowning at the body. “So the beast came back.”

“I’M AFRAID NOT,” Edge said, making the man raise his eyebrows in surprise. Edge bent over to show the ribcage, picked clean by woodland critters. “LOOK AT THIS. FRACTURED RIBS, HEALED UP. MUST BE A FEW YEARS OLD.”

Next he pointed to her leg, which was strangely intact. On the bottom of the sole was a large, circular burn. “AND THIS BURN. TOO PRECISE TO BE FROM STEPPING ON HOT COAL. IT LOOKS LIKE IT WAS BURNED IN LIKE A BRAND, WITH HEATED METAL. OR HER ARM, BROKEN, MOST LIKELY ONLY A MONTH AGO. SHE WAS HURT QUITE SERIOUSLY OVER HER LIFE, AT MANY DIFFERENT TIMES. AND YET, NOT A SINGLE BITE TO MATCH THE MONSTER’S. WHAT AN _ADVENTUROUS_ CHILD, TO GET INJURED SO OFTEN, SO SEVERELY OVER THE YEARS.”

He watched Sam’s eyes open in surprise, his face paling as he realized his implications. One of the girls in the crowd called out. “She wasn’t advent’rous, she just sat around all day and played with the cats! Her grandpa didn’t let her play with us.”

“Silence, girl!” Sam yelled at her, the girl flinching at the sudden hostility. Edge had heard enough.

“SILENCE HER ALL YOU LIKE, SIR. BUT THOSE BITES FROM HER BONES AREN’T FROM THE CREATURE THAT ATE YOUR PEOPLE BEFORE, THEY’RE TOO SMALL. SHE WAS KILLED AND LEFT IN THE FOREST, AND THE FOREST ANIMALS GOT TO THE REMAINS. WHAT _DID_ KILL HER WAS MULTIPLE BLOWS TO THE HEAD, CRACKING UP HER SKULL. YOU CAN SEE FOR YOURSELF, IF YOU CARE TO LOOK.”

“So what are you saying, skeleton? Someone here killed her, not the monster? You dare accuse us of such vile things?!” Sam hissed out, gripping his cane in his hand as the old man next to him glared. Edge sneered.

“NOT ANYONE. FOR A CHILD THIS YOUNG, EVEN AN OLD MAN COULD BREAK THEIR SKULL WITH SOMETHING HEAVY. WHAT WAS IT, OLD MAN? A ROCK? DID YOU BRING A HAMMER WITH YOU TO THE FOREST?”

“You filthy monster bastard, you accuse me of murder!” the old man finally yelled, seething. “You consort with the _thing_ in the woods, and now you accuse us good folk of murder to save that beast out there! We should have had your head the moment you stepped into this village!!!”

Edge watched Sam look at him, pale, then back at the old man. Something in his expression-growing more horrified, more certain-told him the man realized the truth behind Edge’s words. Perhaps he recalled the child suspiciously injured before, brushed off as normal childhood injuries or even excusing it as discipline. Perhaps he saw the old man come back from the woods one day, before people realized the girl hadn’t been seen in a while. Perhaps he saw how the old man didn’t seem upset at the state his granddaughter was in, only at being accused.

Edge saw him think through all that, then pensive. He saw how his pale face closed in grim understanding, then turn determined. When he looked back at Edge, for a moment he assumed the man would apologize.

“We can’t trust the words of one of your kind, skeleton. We won’t stand for you accusing an old man to protect a cannibal,” he said quietly, then pointed towards the forest. “The only reason you won’t hang for your actions is because you brought her body back to be buried. Now leave before we make you leave. Never come here again.”

Edge’s sockets widened in shock, his fists clenching for a long moment, but as he realized the meaning of his words he hung his head down to squeeze his sockets shut. He took a moment to breathe, hearing the villagers slowly speak up, their voices getting angrier. Finally he looked up, eye lights sharp. “ON YOUR HEAD BE IT, OLD MAN. GOODBYE.”

He turned on his heel and marched off, the voices of the villagers rising in pitch behind his back. Only his sixth sense allowed him to evade the stone thrown at his head, the angry scream of a woman’s voice telling him just how much malicious intent must have been packed into it. He broke into a run, running in a zig-zag pattern to avoid the various objects thrown after him, thankfully dying off as he ran into the thick of the forest, leaving the village gates far behind him.

He knew better than to head straight to Papyrus, so with enough meandering and strange turns he found himself in the familiar meadow. He fell to his knees to catch his breath, before knocking on the unseen door. It took very little time for Papyrus to open it a smidge, before opening it all the way to meet Edge with a wide smile, turning sardonic as he took in the state of him.

“THEY WEREN’T HAPPY WITH YOUR WORK, WERE THEY,” he asked, and all Edge could do was laugh out breathlessly.

“NO PAY FOR ME, I’M AFRAID. THEY WOULD RATHER PROTECT THEIR OWN AND BLAME YOU THAN BRING JUSTICE TO A CHILD. SONS OF BITCHES, THE LOT OF THEM.”

The other skeleton leaned on his crossed arms, peeking out of his hole in the ground the way Undyne peeked out of the sea to talk to him while taking a break from swimming, hanging onto the peer while Edge sat on the dry ground. “I COULD HAVE TOLD YOU THAT. YOU’RE A BIT TOO IDEALISTIC, MY FRIEND.”

Edge laughed harder, ending on a sound not unlike a sob. “PERHAPS,” he replied, quieting down. He took a few moments to catch his breath. “SHE DESERVED SO MUCH BETTER. AND NO ONE DID ANYTHING._ I _DIDN’T DO ANYTHING.”

“WHO DID?” asked Papyrus, his head tilted. Edge rubbed his forehead, as if the motion would chase away what happened. Hide him from the world for a little bit.

“THE CHILD. HER GRANDFATHER TREATED HER HORRIBLY AND KILLED HER. I WONDER IF THE VILLAGERS KNEW AND TURNED A BLIND EYE, OR IF THEY DIDN’T KNOW AT ALL,” he answered. Papyrus hummed in thought, sockets scrunched up.

“DOES IT MATTER? SHE’S DEAD EITHER WAY, WHAT DOES IT MATTER IF THE VILLAGERS KNEW OR IF THEY LISTENED TO YOU?” Papyrus asked nonchalantly. Edge whipped his head up, glaring at the other skeleton.

“HOW CAN IT NOT MATTER?! NOBODY LOOKED OUT FOR HER WHEN SHE WAS ALIVE, AT LEAST WHILE SHE IS DEAD SOMEONE COULD HAVE-” he said, stopping when he realized his voice broke and his sockets were feeling distinctly wet. He took a few deep breaths to calm down. “PERHAPS YOU’RE RIGHT. IT’S NOT LIKE HER ONLY FAMILY CARED ABOUT HER. NOBODY WILL GET PUNISHED FOR THIS, AND EVERYONE WILL FORGET ABOUT HER IN A FEW YEARS. WHO AM I DOING THIS BULLSHIT FOR?”

“I ASSUME FOR WHOEVER YOU’RE COLLECTING MONEY FOR THAT YOU CARE SO MUCH ABOUT,” Papyrus said, digging through his pockets. He held out his hand, showing a tiny carving of a skull, the size of half of Edge’s thumb, incredibly delicately carved. “MAYBE THEY DIDN’T APPRECIATE YOU, BUT YOU HAVE MY GRATITUDE, WHATEVER IT’S WORTH. MAYBE THE GIRL CAN’T THANK YOU, BUY AT LEAST I CAN. THANK YOU, EDGE.”

Edge blinked at the wooden carving, carefully picking it up in his hands, grip soft. It smelled like fresh wood and had a suspiciously prominent scar over its left socket. “…THANK YOU,” he said, unable to look anywhere but the trinket. He had a feeling he’d start crying if he met the other skeleton’s gaze. He took another deep breath, then put the skull away in his bag, careful to cradle it in his spare shirt so it wouldn’t get damaged. “WILL YOU STAY HERE, IN THIS FOREST? IT MAY NOT BE SAFE.”

The other skeleton laughed. “I KNOW THESE WOODS BETTER THAN THE HUMANS DO. DON’T WORRY ABOUT ME, I CAN KEEP MYSELF ALIVE JUST FINE.”

Edge nodded, looking at the ground. He got up slowly, feeling decades older than he really was. He wanted to go back home, see his brother, eat lunch together as he interrogated him on the things he saw on his travels. But he didn’t get paid today, and he needed to find a new job as soon as possible. He sighed. “THANK YOU, PAPYRUS. I WILL TREASURE IT. I…HOPE YOU STAY HEALTHY.”

“YES, YES, YOU TOO,” The other skeleton said and nodded indulgently, leaning onto his hand, elbow propped. “SAY, WHERE DO YOU LIVE, SIR HUNTER?”

Edge stopped from where he was turning away. “THE CAPITAL. IN THE SLUMS, NEAR THE COAST. WHY?”

The other skeleton smiled, sockets crinkling. “IF I EVER GET BORED OF THIS HOLE IN THE GROUND, MAYBE I’LL COME VISIT. KEEP THAT SKULL SAFE UNTIL THEN, WILL YOU?”

Edge stared at him for a long moment, his soul touched. His mouth quirked into a smile, there and gone. “I THINK I’D LIKE THAT. GOODBYE.”

“BYE,” the other skeleton said with a wave, watching him as he walked away, deeper into the forest, in the direction of the next town over.

Edge smiled to himself, quickly rubbing his sockets completely dry. He wasn’t a babybones anymore, to get upset when people were horrible assholes. Maybe the plague would take the whole village next year, you never know. With that thought in mind, his steps grew steadier as he headed deeper into the sea of trees.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I actually really liked writing this, even if it's dark af. Forensic medicine is awesome and I've tried playing the Witcher so I rolled all those into a ball with Undertale and wrote this.


	7. Day 8: Reckless (SpicyHoney aka US/UF)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> No TW in particular, it's mostly just them being very gay. This was not beta read and I'm tired so expect a few mistakes.

It had been a rough morning for Stretch. He woke up way too early (curse his anxiety induced insomnia) and he’d been jittery ever since he’d gotten up, then his brother called to say he couldn’t come to visit this weekend because he got saddled with a group project that made a huge part of his grade, and finally on his way back from the corner store he got caught in a sudden storm, and in the few minutes it took him to get inside his apartment he was completely soaked through, including his new shoes that he loved and now learned would fall apart if wet. By the time he’d changed and dried off he was seriously debating crawling back into bed and perhaps having a quick cry (it’s been a rough few weeks ever since both Blue and Undyne moved away) when a notification pinged from his phone. He grabbed it with a sniffle, checking the notifications tab.

To his great joy, it was a new upload by BoneAppleTea. With a smile he threw himself into his chair, waking up his heavy-duty gaming pc and bouncing in his seat as he opened YouTube, the new video already on his recommended list. Stretch perched on his chair like a gargoyle as he clicked it, wondering for a moment what happened to the sound until he remembered to turn on his speakers.

The familiar intro sounds burst into life, the usual bold-lettered “Cooking with a Skeleton” over a backdrop of slicing, dicing and sizzling ingredients, the sounds so familiar to Stretch by now he knew them by heart. He leaned forward, turning up the volume a bit more. Finally, the video started properly, a warm, rich voice accompanying the image of two skeleton hands and a torso in front of a kitchen counter.

_“HELLO EVERYONE, I HOPE YOU’RE ALL DOING WELL. I RECENTLY GOT A CRATE OF APPLES FROM A DISGRUNTLED OLD LADY SO WE’RE USING IT UP IN AN APPLE PIE. SHE NOW KNOWS I MAKE COOKING VIDEOS AND DECIDED TO START WATCHING THEM, SO EVERYONE PLEASE _BEHAVE_ YOURSELVES IN THE COMMENTS. NO TROLLING, NO LINKS TO STRANGE EROTIC FANFICTION OF ME, AND ABOVE ALL, NO TALKING ABOUT THE GOD DAMN CHEESECAKE. IF YOU’RE WATCHING, HELLO MARGARET. NOW LET’S START THIS SHITSHOW.”_

Stretch snorted, remembering the infamous cheesecake incident. It happened in the early days of the channel, when BoneAppleTea didn’t quite have the cooking skills he did now, and not a single video went by without someone in the comments roasting him for it. Stretch listened to the clear list of ingredients, tapping his chin. Bones, as his followers called him, had a tendency to go for some pretty wild, complex recipes that Stretch could never hope to repeat, but every so often he dialed back to some basic ones that even Stretch could follow. The ingredients list seemed pretty ordinary, so it was possible the pie itself wouldn’t be a huge production.

_“GREAT. SO, WHEN COOKING, YOU WANT TO FIRST PREPARE YOUR INGREDIENTS. ONCE YOU HAVE A BETTER FEEL FOR HOW MUCH TIME YOU NEED TO PREPARE THINGS OR TO COOK SOMETHING YOU CAN START TO COORDINATE MULTIPLE THINGS AT ONCE, BUT UNTIL YOU GET THERE IT’S BETTER TO HAVE EVERYTHING READY THAN TO STILL BE CHOPPING YOUR VEGGIES WHILE YOUR ONIONS ARE STARTING TO BURN. THIS HAS ABSOLUTELY NEVER HAPPENED TO ME, I’M MERELY WARNING YOU OUT OF THE GOODNESS OF MY HEART,”_ he said. Stretch’s smile widened while he grabbed some of the pretzel sticks he had left over from yesterday.

_“I’M GOING TO QUICKLY MEASURE OUT MY DRY INGREDIENTS, THEN THE WET ONES AND PUT THEM ASIDE. I LEARNED RECENTLY THROUGH BITTER EXPERIENCE THAT IT’S A GOOD IDEA TO CRACK EGGS ONE BY ONE INTO A SEPARATE RECEPTICLE BEFORE COMBINING THEM IN ONE BOWL, SO ONE BAD EGG DOESN’T CONTAMINATE SEVERAL NORMAL ONES. AS YOU CAN IMAGINE, I WROTE A VERY STERN LETTER TO MY LOCAL GROCERY STORE’S MANAGEMENT AND TOLD THEM TO EAT SHIT AND CHECK THEIR EGGS BETTER. AND TO HIRE MORE WORKERS BECAUSE THEY HAVE TOO FEW OF THEM, OF COURSE THEY CAN’T STAY ON TOP OF THEIR WORKLOAD. THE LADY THAT USUALLY MINDS THE CHECKOUT STILL HASN’T GOTTEN A CHAIR TO SIT IN EVEN THOUGH SHE DOES THE WORK OF THREE PEOPLE, IT’S DISGARCEFUL! I HAVE A LINK TO A PETITION IN MY DESCRIPTION TO SIGN SO I CAN ANNOY THE MANAGEMENT WITH IT.”_

Stretch hummed, pausing the video to go open the petition in a new tab. Sure enough, it was a more politely worded “GIVE THE LADY A CHAIR YOU ASSHOLES, SHE HAS HIP PROBLEMS” petition. Stretch left it open to sign after he finished the video. He always felt bad for the people working at the grocery store near him, it had much the same issues and he knew how much their legs must be killing them from the 2 months he worked there, stocking shelves, and he at least was pretty physically healthy. It was with great joy he flipped them off when he quit and went into streaming full time.

He went back to Bones’ video, watching his deft hands peel and core apples, slicing them meticulously and with impressive speed as he chattered about his herb garden. His hands were scarred and chipped, possibly from his cookscapades, but it was impressive how much fast they moved nowadays. The channel had been updating new content for a good 2 years now and apart from the camera, mike and editing quality improving, the biggest improvement was the chef himself. When he started out he was not much better than Stretch is now, but with practice and time he could now make some truly amazing dishes. Stretch always admired Bones’ tenacity, the effort he put in to become better at something, as well as his consistent concern about the people he met wrapped up in layers of nagging and huffy anger.

That’s what made him stick with the channel once the novelty of a skeleton YouTuber wore off. The cooking was impressive but he normally only followed gaming channels and a few humour ones, and yet every time Bones updated he would drop everything to watch, soothed by his calm voice talking about his day, his experiences being on the surface, his ongoing feud with his brother. Stretch, who back then had been in a dark place mentally, listened to this skeleton gruffly talk about how his neighbour surprised him with a potted cactus or how he was amazed at the size of the stores, and the world seemed a little less scary to Stretch. And once he ventured into the world as well, he realized just how much he wanted to be part of this new surface life.

Bones went into a tangent about how overrated Granny Smith apples were, Stretch quickly shooting a message to his teammates about tonight’s stream, trying to gather enough people for a team. AmaiChan~ was likely available, as was sockmaster, though he knew neither of their flankers would be around. Damn it, he hoped he didn’t have to jump in to fill the spot, he hated playing flankers.

As he let the message drift in the void of the internets, Edge had started caramelizing sugar and cooking the apples down. Stretch listened to his meticulous instructions and warnings, nodding along. After the baked pie crust was taken out, filled up and covered again, Stretch realized the recipe was surprisingly doable. Suddenly he had a gnawing craving for apple pie.

_“AND WITH THAT, WE HAVE A CARAMEL APPLE PIE. IF YOU TRY MAKING IT, PLEASE TWEET ME THE RESULTS! IF IT TURNS OUT GOOD, CREDIT ME, IF IT ENDS UP BAD, PLEASE NOTIFY ME SO I CAN TWEAK THE RECIPE. OR JUST EAT IT ANYWAYS, I’M SURE EVEN BADLY MADE APPLE PIE IS STILL PERFECTLY EDIBLE. I SUGGEST VANILLA ICE CREAM ON TOP,” _he explained, serving a mouth-watering piece of the pie, perfectly sliced with a scoop of slowly melting ice cream on top. Stretch felt his traitorous magic rumble in want. The next shot was the slice demolished in high speed by a different skeleton wearing a hoodie and with shorter, stubbier fingers-the infamous brother who only showed up for the tasting portion of the video. In front of the now empty plate was now a paper, with the number ‘9’ written on it in ugly handwriting and a picture of a butt. Bones gave a thumbs up in front of it.

_“THE BROTHER SCALE RATES THIS RECIPE AS A 9 OUT OF 11, SO IT’S EDIBLE!!! I HOPE YOUR ATTEMPTS GO JUST AS WELL. OR IF YOU DON’T FEEL LIKE COOKING AND JUST WATCH ME TO ROAST ME ABOUT MY TECHNIQUE, I HOPE YOU FUCK OFF AND APOLOGIZE TO YOUR MOTHER FOR WASTING HER TIME. HAVE A DELICIOUS EVENING, AND A GOOD NIGHT!”_

As the credits rolled Stretch leaned back, smiling a bit when his own username scrolled down on the patreons list. It was a different one than the one he used for his streaming, so as to keep his work and his down time separate, but he was glad Bones was getting more patreons as time went on. His videos were always so visually stunning, his storytelling always captivating. And if Stretch felt his face warm every time he watched one, those elegant fingers work carefully with that warm voice as a background, who was to know? He didn’t even know what the skeleton looked like, but he certainly could imagine if he let his mind wander. And wander it did.

He checked his messages, and as expected his teammates agreed to a few matches with him before he went off into the random matchups, but they were also now spamming his discord with memes of Nicolas Cage. Stretch cracked his neck, opening up photoshop to copy a crying cat onto one of the weirder ones. His task done, he went back to Bones’ video and started it again, grabbing a notepad. With a glance out the window to assure him that the rain had stopped, he noted down all the ingredients, then went to put on a sturdier pair of shoes. Here’s hoping he’d stay dry this time.

With 15 minutes until the scheduled streaming start, Stretch was ready in front of his PC. The apple pie-slightly burned, but surprisingly okay looking-was cooling next to him, the dirty pots and pans were soaking in the sink because he didn’t feel like doing them today, his mic and headphones were working and turned on, so finally he opened his Twitch stream, soon filled up by a number of strange usernames that immediately bombarded him with questions. He leaned back and waved lazily.

“heya, it’s osteoPALrosis here to game some plays and chill with everyone. how y’all doing tonight?” he said with his patented lazy drawl. The chat was a cacophony of memes and snippets of conversations, Stretch scanning it with a practiced eye to catch some questions to answer.

woahnelly69: yo is sock playing tonight

woahnelly69: I want my waifuuuuuu

itsyaboisonic: fuck sock amai is waifu material

OWOWOWO: theyre both dudes arent they husbandos

itsyaboisonic: a waifu is a waifu you pleb

DabLord: salem is best waifu anyways

“socks and amai are playing, yep. no salem or gantz, though, so sorry to you thirsty fucks. I already have my break snacks ready and my ‘mute amai’ button cocked,” Stretch explained. “we don’t have a full team so we’re playing with extras, i hope they know how to flank. you know ya boy here is shit at anything but healing.”

GenjiMain: all hail osteo our angel of life and death

woahnelly69: all hail

woahnelly69: all hail

oraora: All hail

NotVeryHumerus: STOP HEALING THAT ASSHOLE SOCKMASTER HE DOESN’T DESERVE IT

Stretch groaned. “don’t remind me, if he starts doing stupid shit and teabagging people instead of shooting i’m leaving him to die tonight. he can beg for a heal if he wants it so bad.”

itsyaboisonic: all hail

OWOWOWO: big meanie :P

oraora: kinky

“it’s not mean, if he wants to mess with other players he can. i’m just not healing him,” he said with a shrug. “I’m just here for some good, clean fun. no weird kinks, no teabagging, no constant talk about boners. i always play nice, he’s the one screwing himself over. oh, here we go,” he said, the ping of his teammates entering the chat.

_“heya, pal. why the long face?”_ Sockmaster said, his voice deep and raspy, made raspier by his mic. Stretched rolled his eyes, but he still couldn’t help but smile.

“shit, you only opened with that joke 50 times by now, what answer do you want anymore?” Stretch replied, noticing NotVeryHumerus roasting Sock. Between their constant rage-on for Sock and his caps lock apparently being broken, he was amongst the more noticeable commenters he had, having been popping up for a few months now. Stretch snickered at their rant, stopping only when he heard Amai join.

_“nyaaaa~ senpai take me-”_ he started in a horrible falsetto, so Stretch immediately hit a button and their voice cut off. He looked straight into the camera.

“and you people didn’t believe me when I said I had a ‘mute amai’ button. he’s a walking biohazard,” Stretch said with a sigh, before entering the game’s match setup screen.

_“hey, no kinkshaming,”_ Sock cackled, spamming the twitch chat with several pictures of an ascii Nicolas Cage. Stretch put his skull in his hands, already nursing a headache. It was like corralling cats.

“i’m not kinkshaming, I’m weebshaming. no shame at weebs usually, who doesn’t like some tsundere catgirls, but amai deserves every bit of hate I send their way for the senpai shit,” he stated firmly, then opened up the game, first waiting for the two to get in and then waiting for the last spot to get filled up by a random. “alright, be nice to whoever we get, yeah? no dead baby jokes.”

_“what about dick jokes?” _Sock asked. Stretch nodded in approval.

“sure, go wild. amai, I’m unmuting you. Call me senpai one more time and I’m voting a ban for you.”

It only took a second of Stretch unmuting them for the voice call to be filled with a melodica cover of the Jurassic Park theme. Stretch took a deep breath, looked towards the sky, then let it out before muttering a quick prayer for a normal player to join them for once. Or that guy that imitated Sean Connery the whole time to show up again, that was pretty cool too. Finally, the ping of the last person joining sounded, the username a bunch of Japanese symbols he couldn’t read. Stretch nodded to them, even if they couldn’t see him.

“heya, I’m osteo, welcome to the team.”

_“H-hi,”_ rang out a soft voice, high pitched. Stretch smiled a little at their obvious nerves. _“I’m Bee, I’m playing on my sister’s account. I don’t know how to play very well yet.”_

“No problem, we all gotta learn. How old are you? Does anyone know you’re playing with the chat on?” Stretch asked gently. Their voice seemed very child-like, though he could be wrong, but they talked with a bit of a kid lisp.

_“Oh, I’m 11. My sister is next to me, she’s 16, she says she watches your streams,”_ the girl answered, Stretch nodding along. Well, it was good that she wasn’t chatting alone. Some players could be downright vicious, and he really didn’t want a kid’s first few experience with gamers to be someone harassing her. _“But she broke her thumb and can’t play so I’m playing for her.”_

“aw, you’re a good sister to help her out! we’re gonna have a good game for her then, alright? and don’t worry if you’re not good yet, you’ll get better when you played a bit, so focus on having fun, yeah? and we’ll help you out, right guys?”

_“don’t worry kid, i got you covered,”_ Sock called out. _“what character did you play with?”_

_“um… the bear one, with the katana. She’s awesome,”_ the kid answered, Stretch pumping his fist in the air in relief. That’s a flanker, so thankfully Stretch could go for his usual healer. Between Sockmaster as a tank, Amai as a damage dealer and the kid, they had a full team ready to go!

“great, pick her and we’ll pick ours and then we go play,” Stretch explained, scrolling until he found his main, an adorable little opossum with a wizard hat and a wand. He selected a custom skin that dressed him in a banana costume, then waited for the others as they dropped in, then for the loading screen for a new match to pop up.

_“how we doing this?”_ Sock asked, Amai chiming in with a remix of some old meme Stretch didn’t know. Stretch muted him again, then put on the Hello Kitty _“Hello World!”_ CD quietly in the background to get them all pumped. He could see the chat complaining, so he cranked it up a little louder.

“you keep us covered at the front. amai, you go in, hit and duck back behind him, don’t wander off. kid, you try and stick close to sock, okay? and yell if your health is low. if you see their tank, try and attack them from the side. That alright?”

_“Yep!”_

_“sure thing, horse face.”_

Stretch nodded, gripping his mouse harder as the loading screen reached the end. “alright, let’s have some fun!”

2 games later they said goodbye to the kid (who seemed very happy and excited she got to play, and her sister got on the chat and thanked him, telling him she was a huge fan, which made the chat go wild about how flushed he got. He couldn’t help it, he was excited to play with fans!) and after another game Sockmaster and Amai went offline, not before shooting the shit for a little bit. Stretch pushed a bit away from his table to have room to stretch his arms and neck. “alright, I’m gonna eat and talk shit for a bit, then play a few more matches. how y’all doing tonight, oh faithful watchers?” he asked, dragging the pie towards him. He grabbed the fork and immediately plunged into the crust, not bothering to cut a slice and plate it.

KurosakiIchigoIsGay: oh shit son what you eating

NotVeryHumerus: MY BROTHER ATE ALL THE DAMN FOOD, I’M STARVING

Stretch turned the pie tin sideways, showing the unevenly baked crust. “I made an apple pie, and yes, the kitchen is still standing. It doesn’t look too bad for a first time.”

NotVeryHumerus: THE TOP CRUST PROBABLY ISN’T EVENLY THICK SO IT DIDN’T BAKE EVENLY, OR YOUR OVEN IS BAD

NotVeryHumerus: SO YOU KNOW FOR NEXT TIME

NotVeryHumerus: I DID AN APPLE PIE RECENTLY TOO!!!

KurosakiIchigoIsGay: mukbang mukbang mukbang

Stretch leaned forward, scooping up some of the crust and apples inside. The spices he added were mouthwatering, the apples were a beautiful golden colour and shining on his fork. “it smells so good, I shit you not,” he said before taking a bite, his sockets popping open in pure joy at the amazing taste. He put the plate down, throwing his fists in the air in triumph as he chewed, savouring the flavours before he swallowed. “dude, holy shit it’s so good. I’m gonna eat the whole thing.”

OWOWOWO: gives us the sauce

itsyaboisonic: may I have a crumb of pie kind skeleton

“oh yeah, the recipe is from boneappletea on youtube, he has such good recipes. mad respect for his skills,” he said, scooping another forkful in a hurry, shoving it in his mouth. He chewed way too fast before swallowing but he didn’t care. “been following him probably since he started the channel, I’ve probably seen every vid of his. only tried to cook his recipes a few times, though.”

Teamjacob22: is that the skeleton cook dude

NotVeryHumerus: YOU WATCH COOKING WITH A SKELETON???????

Stretch nodded, savoring the apple. The crust may be a bit burnt, but it was still nice and flaky. “yep. I mean, the cooking is great but it’s way too complicated for me usually. He explains it fine, but my culinary heights are adding an egg to instant ramen, not like…a salt encrusted spare rib or whatever.”

He leaned back into his chair, chewing on the pie. He only now remembered the sounds of his chewing were probably annoyingly loud, so he covered his mic until he swallowed. “but, like for real, the guy is so cool? I could listen to him talk all day. he’s all caring about people, he’s funny, he has a great voice-whenever he makes a video I drop everything to watch it. they got me through a few rough patches, and…I think he gave me the push to start streaming? i liked playing games but I was worried people would be shitty on streams cuz I’m a monster, but he had a really great channel and i figured…well, maybe I can try too? he made me want to really go for the whole streaming thing, so i really look up to him,” he said with a laugh.

itsyaboisonic: aw youre a cool dude, those who are assholes to monsters can suck it

OWOWOWO: all hail osteo

istyaboisonic: all hail

NotVeryHumerus: OH

Stretch chuckled. “I’m gonna demolish this whole pie, so i’ll be back in 15,” he said before turning off the camera and mic, leaving the chat up. He was so ready to deepthroat the entire pie now that he wasn’t distracted by talking to the chat, but then a ping from Sockmaster came up on the side of his screen. He opened it up to a wall of laughter, forcing him to scroll down to get to actual words.

**sockmaster:** dude holy shit hahahahha what did you do on stream

what did you doooooooo

**osteoPALrosis:** nothing??? I ate some pie

why

**sockmaster:** nothing

this is so fucking hilarious hahahahhaha

no way am I getting into this, ill see how deep you dig yourself in lololol

**osteoPALrosis:** ???lmao ok weirdo

Sockmaster sent him a meme of Leonardo DiCaprio laughing then went offline, so Stretch shrugged and scrolled through his tabs as he ate. He stopped on one, squinting at it in confusion until he remembered it was the petition BoneAppleTea made. He signed it with a grin, then went to check what the text actually said. It seemed like an unnecessarily long paragraph just for a woman to get a chair, but what caught his eye was the name of the store and its address. A familiar address, in fact, because that was the store he used to work at.

Stretch paused his fork, his mouth hanging halfway open. The store was a mere 30 minute car ride from here and Bones repeatedly went there to shop, given that he always mentioned the same workers in his videos. Which mean Bones was most likely living in the same city as Stretch, somewhere close to him. He started sweating as his face heated up, his nerves going into overdrive. He might have even walked by Bones before and not known it, not connecting a monster that passed him by with the scarred skeletal hands. There weren’t many monsters living in this city so he wasn’t expecting this turn of events, which just made his mind feel even more blown. Immediately he switched the camera and mic on, shoving the headset on his skull. Woah, his hands were sweaty.

“guys. guys, holy shit, bones and I live in the same city,” he squeezed out, bracing his skull with fingers on his temples. He could feel the sweat collecting on his neck. “he had some petition to sign so I signed it and I actually live super close to where he shops, holy shit. i’m freaking out here.”

OWOWOWO: lmaoooooo wtf wtf wtf

OWOWOWO: what are the odds????

NotVeryHumerus: W H A T

“no seriously, holy shit. this can’t be real,” he exclaimed, already hyperventilating. ”you guys don’t get it, he’s probably the coolest person i’ve ever seen. I used to work at that store, it’s close to my place. holy shit. I’ve had the biggest, gayest crush on this dude for ages, I can’t explain the depths of thirst i have for this dude and i don’t even know what he looks like.”

itsyaboisonic: dude youre blushing so hard rn lmao

OWOWOWO: is this a new ship??????

Stretch felt his cheekbones burning so hot they could melt, but he refused to confirm his blush by checking the camera. Of course he was flushed like a kid with a schoolyard crush, that’s basically what he was. “guys I’ve wanted to meet him for ages. i’m so gay for this dude, he has the nicest hands and the sexiest voice. I want him to cook me breakfast and read me the newspaper. I have the biggest, fattest crush on him. I’m willing to lose a pinky just to have him read me bedtime stories, that’s how gay I am for him.”

KurosakiIchigoIsGay: :O :O :O :O

OWOWOWO: I SHIP IT

Teamjacob22: all hail the new ship!!!!

NotVeryHumerus: THAT’S…VERY FLATTERING, I’VE ALSO BEEN YOUR FAN FOR A WHILE!!!!!!!!

NotVeryHumerus: I DIDN’T THINK YOU’D FIND MY CONTENT INTERESTING????? AND I’M GLAD IT HELPED YOU

NotVeryHumerus: I’M…SURE WE CAN ARRANGE A MEETING??? IF THAT’S ALRIGHT WITH YOU?????

itsyaboisonic: wait what

NotVeryHumerus: CHECK BONEAPPLETEA’S TWITTER

Stretch was…very confused, to say the least, but he obediently opened the twitter on the screenshare, scrolling to find the other skeleton’s newest post. It was a photo-not of food, like it usually was, but of a piece of paper and a skeletal hand giving a thumbs up next to it. Stretch opened it up.

_“HELLO OSTEOPALROSIS, IT IS I, NOTVERYHUMERUS! ALSO BONEAPPLETEA! I ENJOY WATCHING YOUR STREAMS & I HOPE THIS PROVES I’M NOT A SCAMMER.”_

Stretch closed Twitter, calmly clicking back to the stream. He stared at the chat going wild, his mind freaking out so bad his body somehow broke the other way and became downright serene in its movements. “erm. notveryhumerus?”

NotVeryHumerus: YES?

OWOWOWO: holy shit holy shit holy shiiiiiit

“are you, perhaps, boneappletea from cooking with a skeleton?”

NotVeryHumerus: INDEED I AM!

NotVeryHumerus: I’M SORRY FOR INTERRUPTING YOUR STREAM, BUT I COULDN’T STAY QUIET AFTER SUCH A... PASSIONATE EXCLAMATION

“so you saw me get extremely horny for you on main?” he choked out, sweat pooling under his hoodie.

NotVeryHumerus: CRUDELY PUT, BUT YES.

OWOWOWO: HOLY SHIT

itsyaboisonic: shut the fuck up, let them speak

NotVeryHumerus: IT’S NOT UNWELCOME, ACTUALLY. I THINK MY OWN THOUGHTS ABOUT YOU ARE QUITE SIMILAR.

NotVeryHumerus: YOU’RE A VERY, VERY HANDSOME SKELETON ;)

Stretch gently lowered his expensive headset to the desk, wet prints shining on it from his sweaty palms. He sat there for a few seconds, frozen as the chat moved with lightning speed in his peripheral vision. Finally he took a deep breath.

“FUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUCK!!!” he screamed before flipping over his keyboard, his face burning and his spine covered in sweat, then to punctuate his statement he ran to the window and opened it, scrambling out of it with vigor he didn’t know he had before now and tearing down the street, screaming incoherently. The last thing on his mind was his neighbours or the hour. It took an old man screaming at him to shut the fuck up 10 minutes later for him to finally stop running, and since he was out of breath anyways and his mind was too broken to function he figured he might as well head back home. He was not ready to check in on the stream yet, so to procrastinate facing his demise he instead checked his sudden influx of messages, the most recent one from Sockmaster. He opened it, already getting a headache from the roasting he expected to get. He confessed his hard-on on stream and his crush was in it, watching, he would never get the end of it.

To his surprise, Sockmaster wasn’t laughing his ass off and clowning in his DMs. Instead he sent him a photo of a tall skeleton lying face down on a bed, neck flushed as he seemingly screamed into the mattress. Stretch was confused for a moment, wondering if Sock perhaps sent the photo to the wrong person, until he messaged again.

**sockmaster:** holy shit you broke my bro

tihs is the funnsiet shit in my life afdgffhahfdfsad

you really went for it lololololololol

**osteoPALrosis:** what the fuck are you going on about

**sockmaster:** dude. my bro. you said you had a hard on for my bro on livestream

on l I v e s t r e am

hes been screaming for a full two minutes now

didn’t know you had it in you hahahhahahahha

Stretch paled, his panic growing even stronger, as impossible as the idea seemed.

**osteoPALrosis:** is boneappletea your brother

**sockmaster:** ding ding ding we have a winner

ever since I got him to watch our match streams hes been talking about how cool you are, it was hilarious

here, ill help you out. tell me if he’s an asshole so I can kick his ass, capiche?

and play nice

The next message was a phone number, one Stretch was pretty sure he knew who it belonged to. He crouched down, feeling a bit too lightheaded for an upright position. He was dead, wasn’t he? This was some elaborate pre-death hallucination, right?? This wasn’t actually his life right now, yeah??????

With a deep breath, he copied the number into his phone and saved the contact under ‘HOLYSHIT HOLYSHIT’. He stared at the number for a while, trying to compose some sort of message in his head that would make his actions tonight remotely okay. Nothing seemed right to him, and nothing seemed real anyways, so he used his temporary state of astral projection to cut to the chase and hit the call button.

It rang, Stretch keeping his thumb above the ‘end call’ button the whole time, waiting for his brain to regain its function enough to start screaming not to do this. After the fourth ring, the other person picked up, his voice in his ear both foreign and familiar, distorted by the phone speakers but lilting in the same ways Stretch had learned by heart.

_“AH, ER, HELLO, OSTEO! M-MY BROTHER HAS TOLD ME HE GAVE YOU MY NUMBER! WITHOUT MY INPUT OR PERMISSION, FOR WHICH HE WILL BE_ FUCKING DEFENESTRATED-_,”_ he shrieked the last part out, the jarring familiarity of Sock’s cackling in the background. Stretch snorted at the bickering, the sheer absurdity of the situation making him want to laugh. He bit his hoodie string just to keep his mouth shut. _“I’M AWARE THIS MAY HAVE BEEN VERY…FORWARD OF ME. I MEAN, I’M SURE YOU WERE EXAGGERATING FOR THE STREAM, BUT-”_

“not really,” Stretch interrupted, his voice warbling with pent-up laughter. He heard the intake of breath Bones made, and wasn’t that something? That this amazing person-this intelligent, kind, sassy skeleton sounded nervous about talking to him? “wasn’t exaggerating. probably kind of a creepy thing to say on a livestream, though. sorry.”

_“NO NO, IT’S FINE! IT’S…PERHAPS MORE DIRECT THAN I’M USED TO BUT…VERY MUCH APPRECIATED.”_

Stretch barked out a laugh. “this is really surreal. I always wanted to talk to you, you know? wondered what you were like- i wouldn’t have gone, like, looking for you or anything though! of course! now that I know where you shop! that would be really stalkery and creepy and-”

_“IT’S FINE, REALLY,”_ he interrupted him, tone very no-nonsense. Stretch smiled so wide his mouth hurt. He’d always wanted that voice to talk to him, all calm and smooth coming from what he imagined to be a somewhat stern skeleton. He never imagined he could sound so panicked over a phone call. _“I JUST THOUGH-WELL, IF YOU WANTED TO MEET MAYBE WE COULD…”_

Stretch hummed. “sure. when are you free?”

The line was quiet for a few moments, long enough to make Stretch start to sweat, even in the cool night. _“THURSDAY AFTERNOON,”_ Bones finally answered, Stretch covering his head with his hood as if it would isolate him from the world, just him and the phone and the other skeletons’ voice.

“works for me. how about around 6, at the main park? that work for you?”

_“I’D LIKE THAT, YES. IT’S A DATE-WELL, IT’S-”_

Stretch couldn’t help it, he burst out laughing. “aw, you don’t have to be so stressed! i swear I won’t bite your head off just for talking to me. i’ll be looking forward to meeting you, bones.”

The other skeleton took a sharp inhale at his words, Stretch wondering what he’d done to make him react that way. _“EDGE,” _they stated finally. Stretch blinked in confusion.

“sorry?”

_“THAT’S MY NAME. EDGE. JUST FOR FUTURE REFERENCE.”_

Stretch chuckled, his face impossibly warm. Edge. Now he had a name to tie to the skeleton he saw on the picture. He should ask Sock to send him another one later. “stretch. nice to meet ya.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A few weeks afterwards, the tasting portion of "Cooking with a Skeleton" gets a new segment: a 'boyfriend scale'. The boyfriend scale always rates the recipes as 10/10.
> 
> About 7 months later, the chat during one of osteoPALrosis' streams goes wild when the infamous boyfriend bursts into the new gaming room to yell about undone laundry, blushes in apology, then blushes even harder when osteo immediately starts talking about how handsome he is.


End file.
